


About the Universe, Cats, and You

by Apple_Fairy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 13:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13365753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apple_Fairy/pseuds/Apple_Fairy
Summary: Kiku, a stressed and somewhat soul-weary salaryman, has taken to visiting a cat cafe every Saturday evening as a way to relax. While he’s built up a routine for these visits, things start to get mixed up when a new cute worker shows up that he becomes interested in. When Arthur starts to have trouble with one of the cats, one that has become attached to Kiku, Kiku finally has a chance to get closer to him. But pining is so much easier then pursuing and Kiku might just stumble. A lighthearted rom-com coffee shop AU.





	About the Universe, Cats, and You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my present for SGT_Babyhands on Twitter! This is for the Asakiku Secret Santa 2k17 event. They asked for a cafe au or setting and so I wrote this!  
> This fic is a mixture of my love for cats, 80s shonen love comedies, and just a pinch of Kikuasa. I hope you can enjoy this story. Thank you for reading!

“So, it’s Mr. Honda, right?”

Kiku doesn’t remember his name then. He struggles to remember but the world is nothing now but a pretty face asking his name. Kiku is trying to remember, but a cat is sniffing his laptop and there’s a group of women taking pictures near a cat tree and it’s all very distracting. Quickly, he tries to answer because he knows he’ll look strange if he takes longer. He nods. The pretty face smiles. In Kiku’s heart, a choir sings.

“Francis told me about you. You’re one of our regulars, right? What can I get you today?”

A tea and cookie set. That’s what Kiku has ordered every Saturday for the past two months. He has a set routine for even the moments he tries to unwind, and so this is no different. But his world is being thrown off. This one’s tough because he can’t get by with a nonverbal response. He has to say something. He’s hoping his suit doesn’t look too rumpled from the commute from work. He hasn’t even looked in a mirror. Does his hair look okay? He hopes you can’t see the sleep deprivation in his eyes.

“A cappuccino.” Kiku reflexively says. He feels bad, but he tries to brush it off, because mostly he wants this beautiful person to stop talking to him. He’s been ambushed and he’s unprepared and beautiful people are incredibly intimidating when you don’t prepare for them. The waiter nods to himself, writing it down and Kiku takes this quick moment to really look at him. Blond, tall, with shapely fingers and long legs. Why did he have to be blond? Of all things, why did he have to be  _ blond _ ? It’s then that Kiku hears a faint meow and looks down with the waiter to see a cat barging in on their conversation. A Maine Coon rubs against the waiters legs, a large white cloud begging for attention. He chuckles and bends over, petting him.

“Yes, yes, I see you. Is that all, Mr. Honda?”

“Er. Yes.”

“Then I’ll bring it out soon. You.” He kneels over and Kiku’s breath catches. “Come here.”

It’s like magic. Kiku can’t help but watch intently as the waiter holds his arms out for the cat. He studies him for a moment, and then reels back. He pounces into his arms and effortlessly, fluidly, he catches the cat. The room is falling. This is all too much for Kiku’s heart. 

Just as he turns to leave, Kiku catches what’s written on his nametag. He doesn’t think twice. He just says it as if to affirm it’s all real.

“Artie.”

The waiter stops. The cat held against his shoulder is swishing its tail in delight. He blinks.

“Yes?”

Kiku panics. He wouldn’t say he’s an unreasonable person. His acquaintances could even tell you that Kiku is a patient and balanced person who pays attention to details and makes no mistakes. He’s rarely flustered. But right now, in a small cat cafe, in a place that Kiku allows himself room to breathe, he’s finding himself reacting in a way that feels foreign. He’s not vain. He’s not even shallow. But he’s faced with someone who just hits all of his preferences. His first response should be to shy away from this. But instead, Kiku does something he’s never done before in his life.

“Sorry, I wanted the tea set instead.”

He causes a nuisance.

* * *

 

Kiku is not normally a spacey fellow. Compared to others he’s a rather grounded person who is able to exist in the moment when the need arises. But right now, he’d like to think his consciousness is above Earth, somewhere in the cosmos. Where the very weight of our existence is measured against the vastness of space, where humans can truly feel small, and yet altogether whole. Kiku knows in the grand scheme of things he’s just a drop in a bucket. And sometimes that can be a very comforting thought, like a weight is lifted from your shoulders, like all worldly concerns aren’t as terrible as you think. For Kiku, he doesn’t really have a favorite star or planet. But mindfully, he decides instead to consider each one with astute introspection.

Right now, Kiku’s being scolded by his superior.

He’s not a terrible worker; he’s just a pushover. He’s also not a rat; instead Kiku sticks steadfast to the idea of going down with the ship. So if someone he worked with just so happened to mess up, he dutifully took the blame. (Most of the times, he doesn’t get a choice anyway.)

Kiku’s superior is not a cruel man, just a nitpicky one. Kiku is trying to think of the galaxy as he hears grievance after grievance for the work. Don’t you think this is sloppy? We need to do our all for the client. If the instructions were unclear, please consult them in the matter. There’s no room to be shy in these matters.

Kiku, mentally, is on Saturn. He developed this technique after catching himself thinking mean things about his superior’s face. Kiku doesn’t want to think he’s a petty person, so he trades this in for brief mental visits in the Milky Way and all is well.

Kiku’s feet are starting to ache. Mostly, he just wants to get back to work.

“Well,” his supervisor takes in a deep sigh, “As long as you understand. You should take the time to learn these things while you’re still young.”

With these words, Kiku’s soul takes a sharp plummet back to Earth, and he thinks how sloppy his superior’s tie looks.

After work, he takes his frustrations out on a glass of beer shared with friends. The restaurant plays sappy Enka as he chugs the drink and slams the glass on the table.

“Does he think I’m stupid?!” He exclaims to his friends. Feliciano frets besides him as Ludwig sends sympathetic looks across the table.

“No! I don’t think so?” Feliciano scrambles, “He was really tough on you today though, huh?”

Kiku wants to smoke but the ‘No Smoking’ sign on the wall across from him glares like a warden. It’s just these three; to outsiders it must’ve looked like a mismatched friendship, but Kiku can say the three of them managed a balance that has somehow stayed in tact over three years now. The restaurant is an old-fashioned place with cheap prices that these twenty-somethings could stomach. It was far from trendy, but it was reliable and that’s what they liked. Right now they’re eating with their sleeves rolled up and jackets discarded, sharing plates of yakitori and spicy edamame. Despite himself, Kiku’s in enough of a sour mood to regard his friends with envy. He wishes he was as youthful and vibrant as Feliciano. He’s jealous of Ludwig’s strong looks and stronger temper. His face feels hot already from the alcohol and he hopes he can keep his head on straight before he can get angrier.

“It’s ok, Kiku. He’s just being mean.” Feliciano coos and leans his head against hand, elbow on the table. “You don’t have to listen to him, y’know? You’re a really hard worker!”

Kiku slowly chews his food as he considers this. It sounds nice, but he also doesn’t want to look prideful. It sounds nice to get all indignant and act like you’re above someone else, but Kiku’s not childish. He doesn’t tell Feliciano this, but instead gives a paltry  _ Thank you. _

“Well,” Ludwig chimes in after his second beer, “At least you’re done with this project. Now you’ll be able to work on that new one.”

“Ludwig~” Feliciano whines, “Don’t talk about work here!”

Kiku stops. That doesn’t ring a bell at all.

“What are you talking about?”

Feliciano shakes his head, but Ludwig doesn’t notice at all. “Oh, didn’t you get the email? The boss moved you to that team.”

Kiku’s heart sinks. He hadn’t even been consulted. He checks his phone in a rush, and ignores Feliciano’s attempts to distract him. “I mean, it’s not like it matters!” He reasons, “You shouldn’t worry about that now!”

Kiku finds the email and scans it. Oh. On top of everything he was given most of the work again…

And then Kiku visits Mars.

On his way back home, Kiku tries to not look at his reflection in the train windows. His face is flushed, his tie is messily undone, there are dark circles under his eyes. His mind is working out how much work he’ll have to do in these coming weeks. He’ll have to stay overnight, won’t he? Oh and they paired him with that  _ one  _ guy, and that never ends well. His head feels dizzy and his fingers feel sore from all the salty food he ate. A bath. All he wants is a bath and to go to sleep. The one thing he’s thankful for right now, is the silence. Socializing is nice after a while, but Kiku feels burnt out. He’s wondering if at this point his whole existence is just burnt out.

When he walks up to his apartment complex he sees a light on in his room.  _ Of course _ . Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

As soon as he opens the door, he hears a wave of laughter, from the TV  _ and _ his brother.

“Oh!  _ There _ you are!” Yao looks over his shoulder, cheery, “I was starting to wonder where you were.”

Kiku is the second oldest son of what can only politely be called a tribe of a family. Growing up, it’s hard to say if he ever had a moment alone, or a moment where he wasn’t babying someone or being babied. He had thought that once he graduated and lived on his own he’d finally have quiet moments to himself to cherish and reflect on. He was terribly wrong. He thinks the mistake he made was getting an apartment in the city, which his siblings took as a sign to board there whenever they wanted to visit the metropolitan life. Yao was one of many offenders, a gourmet chef who liked to visit the fancy food marketplaces near Kiku’s neighborhood. He made up for this with cooking Kiku dinner whenever he visited, but Kiku doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not enough. To be honest, Kiku doesn’t have the heart to kick any of them out anyway.

(This isn’t to say he hates his family; they just sit in that precarious spot all families do where you wouldn’t trade them for the world but you’d also happily sell them out if given the chance.)

“Yao, I told you,” Kiku stifles a sigh, “ _ Please  _ call beforehand.”

“I made you dinner,” Yao ignores him, turning back to the TV, watching some kind of comedy routine, “You can still heat it up.”

Kiku doesn’t know how it’s like to have something that’s his and his alone. Or at least, he barely knows such a concept. His stomach feels lopsided right now so he doesn’t even entertain the notion of eating. Kiku shuts his aching eyes in frustration and collects himself. 

He doesn’t say anything and instead focuses on the routine of it all: change shoes, put the food in the fridge for later, start the bath. Yao, of course, doesn’t miss the fact that he’s being ignored.

“You’re not hungry?” He calls from the living room, “You could  _ at least _ sit with me.”

Kiku watches the bath fill up with tired eyes. He resists the urge to use the heater because bills are costly in a place like this. Instead, he puts faith in the water itself. Please stay warm, he begs it. Please stay warm until I get back.

When he sits down next to Yao, the screen is showing an up and coming idol asking questions to a famous comedian. He says something stupid and the audience erupts with laughter, the screen blaring with reaction text and playback. It makes Kiku’s head throb.

“You smell like beer. Have you been  _ drinking _ ?”

Kiku shoots onto one of Jupiter’s moons and marvels at the numbers.

“I was just catching up with Feliciano and Ludwig,” Kiku confesses.

“You shouldn’t be drinking so much, you know. Ah, and you know salt is bad for you.” Yao lectures, “Did you eat a lot?”

Kiku processes through the various ways he can get out of this. “Did you buy anything good today?” He deflects. Yao’s mood shifts. He goes into a ramble about a good deal on pork belly he was able to get today, on the new sake they were selling. He’s thinking of trying a new recipe and selling it on the menu. Does this sound tasty? And so on and so forth...Kiku has half of his mind on the conversation and half on the screen. The talk show is starting to become calming in how little it is. He could just lose in himself in the colors and voices until he wasn’t even there anymore.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Yao caught himself, “Tao wanted me to ask you if he could stay over for Saturday. Something about a clothing sale?” 

Kiku sails past a satellite.

“No,” Kiku lies, “I have a meeting in the evening.”

“Good,” Yao agrees, “he’s become so pushy lately, hasn’t he? He needs to focus on his studies.”

Internally, Kiku begins to breathe a sigh of relief before something cuts him off.

“How’s work going, by the way?” Yao leans back and stretches, “Mom and Dad were asking. Did you talk to your boss yet?”

He supposes he could understand: no matter how old you get parents would worry. Just like them, he also wishes he could find a bigger apartment and get a higher position. It’s not as if he’s not working towards them, it’s just that he’s not as fast as people would like.

When questions are stacked against you and you’re being more interrogated rather then checked on, it can be exhausting. 

“Not yet.” Kiku blankly says. A commercial for Pocari Sweat plays on the TV and Kiku wants the world to be just as bright and fun.

“Hmm.” Yao hums, and the simplicity of it speaks louder than any lecture could have. Kiku glances at his phone, figuring he should charge it already, and feels his heart soar. Two days until Saturday. In only two days he’ll be free.

“Ohhh,” Yao leans over and looks, “It’s getting late, isn’t it? I should head out.”

And Kiku’s heart brightens even more.

Yao collects his things from the fridge, and changes shoes. Just as he’s about to leave, however, he turns around.

“I almost forgot!” He snaps his fingers, “Mom wants to know if you’re free next Friday.”

“Eh? Why?”

“She was thinking of introducing you to a girl. I mean, she told me to lie and tell you she wants to meet you for lunch, but it works out better this way, right?” Yao asks rhetorically, “Do you remember that girl from the bakery?”

Kiku just stares at him. In fact, Kiku may just be staring past him. He thinks about the infinity of the world, about the chemical makeup of stars, about how he’s told his mother over and over again he’s just not interested in marriage right now. This world can be broken down into solids and liquids and gas and Kiku doesn’t want a girl and wants the universe to understand. In the end, we’re all recycled materials with a vague idea of intelligence and for god’s sake can’t Kiku be a bachelor without a some kind of stupid deadline to meet.

When he’s finally alone and gets the chance, Kiku slips into the bath and it’s cold. He doesn’t even resist it or try to fix it. He just slips down until only his nose is above water and he lets the icy water embrace him until all the aching falls away.

Two days. In two days, it’s Saturday and Kiku finds himself back at the cat cafe.

“Mr. Honda.” Artie smiles when Kiku arrives, “Welcome!”

And then Kiku is back on Earth. He smiles back. He doesn’t have to be in space anymore. He doesn’t have to be anywhere but here, on Earth, and in the moment. Kiku does incredibly meaningless things when he visits the cat cafe: He drinks tea, he reads manga, he takes pictures of napping cats, and simply and wonderfully exists. Halfway through his visit, Artie swings by and refills his cup. It really is as if the world slows down, as he watches Artie bend over, eyes half-lidded, hands angled and careful. He thinks of him hungrily, wondering how perfect it would be to hold his hand or kiss him softly. On more desperate days, Kiku wishes he could have Artie in his bed so when he gets home from work he could just bury himself into his chest until all the stress was gone. He wants to hear his heartbeat. He wants him to breathe his name.

“You need anything else?” Artie asks, and Kiku’s back in the moment. If he was a cooler guy, he’d probably flirt with him. If he was suave and dangerous, he’d probably make jokes and suggestions until Artie melted for him. 

But he’s not.

He’s just Kiku.

“No,” he smiles, “I’m fine.” He lies.

* * *

 

To really understand it, one would have to know Kiku’s childhood. His demeanor hasn’t changed since then, a bit like the permanent blueprints that are apart of his existence: Kiku was a quiet child, he was mindful and observant and incredibly polite. It’s little wonder then that growing up he’d relate more with cats then dogs. They were well suited for him. Cats are quiet and contemplative creatures that don’t mind the calm and much prefer to be left alone. However, it came to be that due to an allergy his mother had, Kiku never technically grew up with cats. Instead, what he could do, was look forward to the summers. Because when he got to visit his grandparents he also got to see their cat Tama.

Tama was a black and white cat with a pompom tail that liked to nap in the sunlight and would play with the string Kiku danged in front of it. Whenever Kiku preferred to stay in, Tama liked to keep him company. And despite his parent’s wishes, he gave it more table scraps then he should have. It sounds silly to people who couldn’t understand; childhood happiness was a warm summer afternoon with a small cat purring in your lap. Perhaps one could sum it up with the importance of feeling comfortable in silence. Maybe there’s something profound in the simple and understood bond between a pet and an owner. Or maybe, cats are just cute.

But all good things come to an end. Kiku learned that one summer when he was in his second year of middle school. And much like the marching on of time, so too Kiku was learning he was on a fast track to adulthood too. There’s something one leaves behind when they grow older. Kiku is an old soul; he already knew this at his young age.

There’s no need to go into specifics because even childhood sadness grows dull with age. What’s important to know is that time passed. Before he realized it, when Kiku looked back up he was a college graduate enduring interview after interview. He should’ve felt successful when he landed his first office job. Instead, he felt an obligation was fulfilled and a crisis was averted. There was no enjoyment; there was just a sigh of relief. One’s early 20s are an awkward stumble and acting like an adult and hoping no one catches on. Kiku’s not exactly fulfilled in his job, but he is efficient. The moments before sleep, when he stares at his small apartment ceiling, he realizes that that’s what people love the most in this world from you. It’s just how efficient you can be. But he wonders; what does he love? He’s not sad as much as he’s lost something. He’s more focused on trying to get it back more then he’s wallowing in self-pity. Kiku’s loaded with responsibilities but he can’t remember the last time he really felt at peace.

Destiny answers his prayers with a phone call from his younger sister Mei. She wanted to visit him and see the city together. She wanted a companion and claimed he wasn’t enjoying the city as much as he should. And while Kiku was accommodating, he also endured her dragging him to young, trendy places he didn’t really understand. One day she wanted to check the cat cafe near his house and that’s when it struck.

Initially, Kiku had never heard about these places and he didn’t even know this place was near his apartment. But as Mei chattily explained the concept to him, he’d be lying if he said the idea didn’t seem charming. And when they sat down Kiku felt as if he was in a different world. It was quiet and comfortable. It wasn’t painfully trendy and it was as if he could fit in just as he was. The decision was made for him when a Birman approached him with a tentative paw placed on his knee. Kiku still felt as if the world was telling him something. When he petted him, there was a sense of ease draped over his shoulders. He could’ve felt silly. He could’ve felt ridiculous. It’s just a cat.

But when the cat jumped on his lap without hesitation, instead, Kiku felt like he had come home.

* * *

 

Kiku gets to know Artie for three months and he makes no moves whatsoever.

This may sound like a long amount of time but there’s very little you can know about a person in three months, especially if you keep them at an arm’s length. What Kiku does know is this: he’s twenty-four years old and still in college. He was born in London. He doesn’t have a cat at home. His favorite menu item is the blueberry cake.

And that’s it. No news about a significant other, no idea about his preferences, no clue on if he’s interested. Kiku knows him the same way he’d know a client of his. In other words, the most basic of information without any emotional attachment. 

He’s messing this up. He already  _ knows  _ he’s messing this up. Kiku is capable and can keep his head above water, but he’s anything  _ but  _ a Casanova. He’s embarrassed to admit he’s never dated before, he’s rarely flirted, and he’s too painfully shy to make sure Artie looked his way. Kiku isn’t someone who likes to shake things up so it’s much easier to just sit back into the coziness of normalcy. He lets the chances he has pass him by much like a boat on a river.  Slowly and steadily and easily. He notices its very easy to keep things as they are. The cat cafe, as cheesy as it is to say, is Kiku’s paradise. He’d rather die then ruin all that just for the slim chance of charming a cute waiter. This isn’t a romance movie. Kiku is mature enough to know the universe is an unglamorous place to live. Besides, Artie and him have established an easy rapport and he smiled at him every time he visited. For now, this was enough for him. It was all surface-level niceties, but this was enough for him.

It’s not a costly place. Kiku can afford to spend an hour per week to just visit the cafe and decompress. Kiku’s apartment complex doesn’t allow pets, and he keeps this a closely guarded secret from his coworkers and family. They call these things an ‘oasis for the soul’ and as strange as it is, it works well for him. 

However, a few months in, an obstacle had presented itself. 

The door rings with Kiku’s arrival and it shuts softly behind him. His feet and shoulders are aching and its 8:30, the night settling in already. As usual, the wall next to the entrance is decorated with glossy pictures of the cats, offering the chance to adopt whichever one you want. It was always extremely calming when Kiku walked in. Like walking through a portal, the cafe was a soothing quiet compared to the noisy outside. Today the front is being watched by the owner Francis and he’s talking to someone on the phone when he notices Kiku. He flashes an easy smile and waves. At this point, the staff knows Kiku well. He’s a little embarrassed to know he’s considered a regular.

In a second, Francis hangs up and is already writing Kiku in. “Mr. Honda, your usual hour and a half?”

“Er, yes.”

“How’s life?” Francis looks up, his eyes a sleepy but welcome look. “Is the life of a salaryman treating you well?”

Kiku will admit, when he first came here, the way Francis treated him felt disarming. He talked that way with all the customers; as if they were lifelong friends, that he was generally interested in how you felt and how you were doing. But after awhile that overt friendliness was calming in its own way. Conversation is easier when the other party takes the helm. There’s no room for awkwardness when it was being shoved to the front and then promptly ignored. All day, Kiku has to put on a patient smile and front so it’s nice to finally let someone else take that part. Kiku has learned to lean into that current rather than resist it.

“I would be lying,” Kiku smiles a little bitterly, “if I said it was easy.”

Francis laughs. “I can imagine! Well, you know you can relax here. By they way, did you see?”

“See what?”

Francis points his pen to the wall Kiku had passed. “We have ourselves a new cat starting today.”

Kiku goes for a closer look. It takes him awhile of scanning through the various sun-stained papers but he finally sees it. It’s the picture that catches him first: a grumpy looking Scottish fold glares at the camera as it reclines in a cat bed. A paper next to his profile states “Welcome our new friend, Scone!”

“Oh,” Kiku blinks, “How cute.”

“Isn’t he?” Francis agrees, “I found him myself. Scottish folds are pretty popular these days too.”

“The ears are cute.”

“Hopefully you’ll be able to see him today.”

Kiku pays for his time and changes into slippers before going into the cafe area. It’s all become so routine to him at this point, and a sense of relief washes over him as he hears the familiar soft music playing over the speakers. The cafe isn’t huge but it’s not small either. It’s a one-story fixture that’s more of a lounge then cafe. The walls are lined with various walkways for the cats, and the cafe is all soft earthy tones and natural colors. Of course, there are cats everywhere. Being doted on by other patrons, napping in various places, walking around as if they owned the place. Kiku forgets adult worries then. Phone calls to make, clients to see tomorrow, transit to endure, things to remember. He simply takes his usual spot, his drink order ready in his head, and exists.

Well. He tried. That’s when something attacks.

Something jumps on Kiku’s shoulder, fast, and he stiffens in shock. Before he can even turn to look at the heavy thing, something soft hits him in the face and he winces.

“Oh, there you are!” A familiar voice admonishes, “What  _ are _ you doing?!”

Kiku’s knee-jerk response is to apologize for whatever he did. His second response, based on the voice, is to die on the spot. 

When Kiku’s view finally clears he sees Artie, red-faced, angry, and out-of-breath. Kiku knows for sure he’s a goner because even in this moment his heart jumps at the sight of him.

Kiku’s sharply drawn back to Earth with a loud purring against his ears. When he turns to look he’s met with the round and soft face of a Scottish fold. Kiku blinks as the cat settles down on his shoulders, fluffy and content.

“Scone…?” He wonders aloud, recognizing that glare he had seen moments earlier. He was heavy. Kiku’s never had a cat use him as a perch before. There’s a shuffling besides him and Kiku’s heart jumps again when he sees Artie kneeled next to him, leaned in close. He’s never been this close before. Kiku’s not  _ used  _ to him being so close. His heart just isn’t ready at all.

“I’m so sorry for this, Mr. Honda.” He apologizes, but Kiku can barely hear what he’s saying. With him so close it felt like it was taking longer to process the whole world in general.

“This is our new cat.” Artie explains, trying to reach for him, “Here let me just...”

“N-No, it’s fine.” Kiku manages to sputter out, freezing up at Artie’s approach, his mind going blank.

However the cat hisses and jumps from Kiku’s shoulders. They watch him for a moment before he settles next to Kiku, and starts to purr again. Artie lets out an irritated sigh.

“Oh, of course  _ now  _ he wants to behave.” He huffs and Kiku finally notices the collar in Artie’s other hand. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Kiku lies, half wondering if he has cat hair on his suit jacket and if he looks ridiculous to Artie or not. “I should be asking you that.”

Artie makes a face that makes Kiku want to smile. “I’ve been trying to get this collar on him all day now. But he’s being stubborn. Look.”

Artie reaches across Kiku, causing Kiku’s body to freeze up again. Scone looks up at Artie’s hand and then bats it away. He doesn’t leave marks but Artie still grimaces.

“Have you tried giving him treats?” Kiku guesses.

“I have. And I tried leaving him alone and coming back to it. I’ve tried sneaking up on him.”

Kiku knows Artie’s good with cats. He’s seen him work with them in such understanding and patient ways. He looks back at Scone and instinctively goes to pet him, trying to test the waters. Surprising him, the cat leans into his hand, rubbing his cheek against it.

Slightly, Kiku’s heart melts.

“He likes you.”

Kiku looks back to Artie. Even Artie seems surprised. He blinks.

“He hasn’t been that cuddly with anyone here.” Artie raises his eyebrows, as if getting an idea. “Actually, could you put it on him?”

Obviously, Kiku should be put off by this. He’s being put on the spot and he paid his time here. But also, just as anyone would be, Kiku is weak to the person he likes. He’s too preoccupied with the thought of impressing him than he is to think about himself. Besides, Kiku is used to being given more difficult things to solve, problems that are grating and tense. In comparison, putting a collar on a cat is nothing.

Kiku takes the collar. It’s as if it’s an entirely different cat; Scone doesn’t resist when Kiku clicks it on. He just lays there and closes his eyes slowly. 

“Amazing.” Artie observes.

“Maybe he’s in a better mood?”

Artie tries to touch him. Scone purposefully rolls to the side in defiance. It’s adorable but rude. Artie takes a moment to think this over and then snaps his fingers.

“You know, he’s been giving me grief all day, but I think if you’re around this could be easier!”

“Eh?”

“Do you mind, Mr. Honda?” Artie asks, “I mean, just until he gets used to me.”

Just because Kiku’s a regular doesn’t mean he has to help. He knows he doesn’t have to do this. But then again, it’s just a cat and most importantly it’s Artie. He’s already rationalizing to himself that it’s no trouble at all and that he can take on this much. It’s predictable of him, but he can’t help himself. He’s never been so infatuated.

“Of course I don’t mind.” Kiku smiles politely, “I’d love to help.”

He supposes, eventually, he would have to have his foolish moments.

* * *

 

“I mean,” Feliciano shrugs, “isn’t this what you wanted?”

He blows on his coffee, lips pursed, and then takes a sip. He still flinches. Besides him, Ludwig is partaking in a smart, healthy salad of spinach and strawberries. The cafe is filled with the soft murmurs of a lunch rush, and Feliciano and Kiku are waiting for an entree they’ve decided to split amongst themselves. Ludwig had based his order on the special of the day to save money. It’s easier to be frugal when you have friends and it’s necessary when you’re young.

A bit of a correction from before: there are people from work who know about Kiku’s cat cafe visits. Thankfully, it was his best friends. It had happened with a misplaced hashtag on an picture Kiku had posted online, and Feliciano seeing it before Kiku could correct it. The rest didn’t matter. And to Feliciano and Ludwig, it didn’t matter. They could understand.

What they can’t understand is Kiku’s worry.

“What I don’t understand,” Ludwig interjects, “Is why they let an unfriendly cat roam the cafe. Wouldn’t that be detrimental to the cat and the patrons?”

“I think he only acts that way with Artie.” Kiku corrects him. He could recall Scone having his picture taken as he napped on a cat tree. He didn’t budge for the patrons; he wasn’t friendly but he wasn’t hostile either. Just like any cat, he simply regarded you and then promptly ignored you.

“I wonder why he doesn’t like him.”

“He’s not sure either.”

“But this is fine, right?” Feliciano smiles, “You wanted to be close to him, right? This is your chance!”

Kiku blushes. This all feels so juvenile to him. Chatting with friends about some fleeting crush. Kiku’s the type of person to feel shame for how this must look to outsiders.

“No, I mean,” He shakes his head ,”I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“But you do like him.”

Kiku looks down to his hands.

“Then it only makes sense, right?”

Kiku frowns. He’s trying to think of an actual way to explain it without sounding ridiculous. It’s hard to really get the feeling of insecurities and smart self-preservation. Not to mention, it’s easy for other people to make a leap if they’re not the ones doing it. There are things at risk here that he doesn’t want to lose. Life isn’t a fairytale and he has a fair amount of chance of losing then he does winning. Advice is kind to a point, but he wonders if it considers him at all. Kiku feels it all sit at the back of his throat. He’d have to be upfront about this. There can’t be room for any other argument. He swirls his ice water and then takes a sip as he formulates his argument in his head. He puts down the glass and leans forward.

“It’s just that I wouldn’t even know where to start. I don’t have much to offer; I’m sure I must look quite strange to him. If he hasn’t made a move and I haven’t made a move then there might not be much chemistry there at all. Not to mention, if things did go awry, then won’t my visits become awkward for him? I’m sure he’s trusting me right now the same way you would trust a friend. Wouldn’t this betray his trust? In a way, won’t I be forcing my own feelings on the situation? I don’t want to be rude, and considering the nature of our relationship, I may just be taking advantage of him without thinking. It’s much easier for all parties if I just...help him. Without risking anything.”

A quiet air settles between them. Kiku’s heart feels like it’s aching. Of course he trusts them, but there’s still a certain rush that comes with being so honest. And while he hates showing this side of himself, Kiku would rather not have something thrown back at him. Around them, the cafe carries on with the sounds of cutlery against plates and of glasses clinking. Ludwig finishes chewing his salad and swallows. Feliciano watches with an air of naive casualness.

“Well.” Ludwig finally responds, “I won’t say there is not some logic to your words.”

Kiku almost wants to breathe a sigh of relief as much as he wants to burst into tears.

“However, isn’t your argument founded on your own preconceived notions? Is there anything else proving this right?” 

Kiku blinks, dumbfounded. It’s as if someone had reached over him and found the answer to a puzzle he had been slaving over. He can’t think of any response to that.

The waitress finally arrives with Kiku and Feliciano’s food. Feliciano thanks her, and the moment passes. Just like that, it had been decided.

* * *

 

The next time Kiku visits, Artie joins him. He had explained the situation to Francis, who agreed it would be good for Artie to take the hour to get as close to Scone as he could. However, while saying this, Kiku could see Francis glancing at him and smiling in a knowing way. He hopes it wasn’t obvious. That is, it probably was, but he hopes he’s wrong. In any case, the business is slow in the evenings and Kiku’s mulling over his thoughts while Scone rubs his cheek against his arm. Artie has come equipped with a cat toy. He’s trying to get Scone’s attention. He coos his name and waves the wand in front of him. Kiku’s lost in his thoughts: how  _ do _ you pursue a person?

There has to be a balance. He doesn’t want to come off as a creep. But also, Kiku’s never flirted with anyone in his whole life. Artie’s lovely and he’s tall. He must be popular, right? And he’s much younger too...what could Kiku offer him? Feliciano really made it sound so easy. He has him here, but so what? Kiku tries to imagine making a move right now:

_ “Artie!” He would exclaim and grab hold of his hands, “I’m a stressed-out salaryman who gets bullied by his boss all the time. I’m 5’5” and my apartment is small and cramped and used by my family like they own it. We’d never have a moment alone! I don’t have any confidence! Please go out with me!” _

_ “Oh, Mr. Honda!” Artie would cry back, smiling through tears, “I’m way out of your league! This will end terribly. Of course I’ll go out with you!” _

_ Cue running into the sunset. _

“Say, what are you reading?”

Kiku jumped, caught off guard. Artie is looking back up at him. He desperately hopes he wasn’t making any faces. 

“You’re always picking some manga off the shelf. What’s the series today?”

Unable to find words, Kiku settles with showing the cover. It features a man and his corgi, a bright eyed tank of fluff in front of an apartment complex. It’s a typical slice-of-life, almost diary-like manga, detailing the benefits to owning a dog. Artie tilts his head.

“Is it ok to be reading about a dog in a cat cafe?” He wonders. Kiku chuckles. He looks back down at it himself.

“I’ve tried reading serious things before, but when I’m here I’d just like to relax.”

“I always assumed you came here because you’re busy with work.” Artie leans back with Kiku, giving up on his attempt to attract Scone. “So I guess this is like therapy for you?”

“That must seem quite strange.” Kiku says sheepishly.

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first customer like that. And I can see the appeal.”

A small shorthair Tabby passes by, and bats at the toy Artie holds lazily. Artie smiles, and entertains it for a while. It moves to and fro, an energetic thing trying to keep up.

“Once you understand them, cats are easier to understand than humans.” Artie muses. “They’re simple and straightforward. With them you don’t have to guess what they need.”

Kiku watches his profile. It’s like he stepped out of a manga himself. Kiku’s beginning to realize that Artie is sweet and Artie is pretty but Artie is too perfect. Something’s not right. He’s missing something here. Is it that he’s failing to see him for something other than a cute waiter to crush on? Suddenly, the cat perks its head up and watches a patron from across the room open a container of treats. It darts over with some of the other cats and the girl laughs with her friends. It was a feature at the cafe; Kiku’s never tried it but he supposes it’s a fun way to spend 200 yen. Artie turns to Kiku.

“You’re quiet, you know.”

Kiku feels embarrassed. He looks away, to a nondescript point on the wall.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. But you don’t have to be nervous either.” Artie frowns. For a moment the image Kiku has of Artie breaks, like a stone thrown into a pond, breaking an image into waves. He’s getting a grasp of something but it’s still too hazy to understand.

A tail breaks the conversation. Scone has walked in front of Artie and now he’s watching the cat toy. Artie brightens.

“Oh, _ finally _ . Here, boy.” Artie calls as he swings the toy. Scone watches it with intense concentration, his fat, fluffy tail batting from one side to the next. Kiku knows what’s wrong; he’s not trying to see anything else. In order to make a move, you have to know that you can’t scale a pedestal. Artie’s pretty but surely there’s more. What Kiku’s been doing is fawning over him and not much else. He hasn’t yet realized that Artie isn’t a pretty fixture to admire, but a real breathing person just like him. Maybe there  _ is  _ something he can offer him; a connection. Some kind of jumping off point. If he really does want to pursue him he has to find something to relate with him. Do they have something like that? Or is Kiku just chasing an image he’s placed on him?

Finally, Scone jumps. He ignores the toy altogether and instead attacks Artie’s hand.

Artie lets out a yelp as Scone bites and then scrambles away. Things descend into chaos as Kiku tries to help, and volunteers to clean Artie’s wound. It’s a small thing and despite Artie trying to say it’s fine, Kiku insists. The first aid kit is brought out, Francis frets a bit, Scone hides under a table and it’s all a blur.

“Maybe he’s still antsy.” Kiku guesses, cleaning the wound. Artie grimaces a bit. “Maybe you should try to get closer another way. Are you alright? Does it still hurt?”

“I told you it’s  _ fine- _ ”

“I think I have a bandage on me…”

Kiku rifles through his bag, entirely preoccupied. He’s embarrassed to see the only bandage he has is a character one from a certain anime. Can he use this? Is this strange for a older man to have? This was just another awkward obstacle to having a crush; how honest can he be with him? This is exactly what he was worrying about; Can he really match his level?

“Oh, is that…” Artie begins, leaning over and watching. Kiku freezes. He’s trying to think of some excuse but instead Artie brightens.

“I think I read the light novels for that series.”

And finally, hope appears.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t usually read them, but I liked that one.” Artie offers his hand back, and Kiku takes cue, “Have you watched the anime? I’ve been meaning to, but I wanted to know if it’s the same.”

It dawns on Kiku then what he’s been missing out on. He’s worrying entirely too much; this entire time Artie’s been trying to relate to him. And while before, Artie had been an outline, he’s slowly being colored in by these facts. Shared interests. A desire to connect. A chance.

Kiku takes his hand and places the bandage on. It’s then he gets to see Artie’s hands aren’t smooth or perfect; they have random tiny scratch scars scattered on them. A callous on his thumb. In that moment, Artie isn’t on a pedestal but only human.

It’s so refreshing. Kiku smiles. He doesn’t even have to fake anything.

“The animation was good.” He admits, “But the ending is different.”

“Oh?”

“The brother ends up marrying the neighbor girl. And the main character goes on a trip to Paris for whatever reason.”

“But that doesn’t make sense!”

Kiku chuckles. “I was thinking the same thing.”

And so it goes. It’s scary to pursue a person for a variety of reasons: you could upset the balance, they may not like you, you might not be suitable. But Kiku knows he’s being inside his head too much. The more they talk, the more Kiku finally sees him. He has good opinions here, he has bad tastes there, he has something to him he didn’t see before. Artie is coming in view in a way that he hadn’t even thought of before. Things feel more possible.

He wants him. There’s still so much to discover and Kiku knows now he really, really wants him.

Sooner than they’d like, Kiku’s time is up. Before he can go, however, they both turn and see Scone has taken to using Kiku’s bag as a bed. Artie scoffs.

“He’s such a brat, isn’t he?”

Kiku, unashamedly, laughs.

* * *

 

In front of him are two choices: a slice of black gateau chocolat and a slice of strawberry shortcake. They’re both evenly priced and well-packaged. The convenience store is bright but sleepy in the evening and Kiku looks back up to see the pleading eyes of his sister still watching him.

“You can only get one.”

Mei makes a face, and keeps looking at him with sad puppy dog eyes. “That’s the problem! I can’t choose. Please? I’ll share one with you.”

“You’ll get sick if you eat both.”

“One’s for later!”

Kiku looks at her sternly. Mei squirms for a while, holding ground. Kiku would like to think he’s resistant to his sister’s charms. That for once he can say no to her. It’d be very easy and quick to get over, and it’s not like she’d hold a grudge. He’s an adult now. He has to do these things.

Sadly, Kiku’s always been a good big brother.

“...Fine. Just this once.”

Maybe he’ll be strong enough another day.

Mei cheers and barrages him with a wave of thank you’s and hands him the cakes. Kiku surveys his basketful of snacks. He had really only meant to come for some bread and a magazine. Mei had decided to stay the night after it had been too late for her to take the train back home. She had been with her friends and the movie had ran late, she claims. Kiku trusts her enough to take this reason. She’s a smart enough girl to decide to stay with him, anyhow. 

On their way home, Mei calls their parents to let them know where she is. Plastic bags heavy in his hands, Kiku wonders if they make a strange pair. Mei’s in high school now, young and bright and incomprehensible. She looks so stylish compared to him. In a way he’s envious of that innocent youth, but he remembers he’s the same as he was in high school as he is now so there’s very little difference anyway.

After dinner, they settle in and watch a drama she’s been keeping up with. Mei chatters about the plot, as Kiku does some work on his laptop. He only catches snippets of it, how so-and-so was this smart business woman and this guy was her down-to-earth childhood friend, but now there’s this dreamy but mean colleague of her’s, but  _ now  _ her childhood friend has a girlfriend…

“I don’t understand, then.” Kiku looks up, pushing up his glasses, “If he’s unhappy, why didn’t she just confess before?”

“Because she wants him to do it! She’s always taking the lead so she wanted him to do it.”

“Does it matter who confesses?”

“Of course! If he’s gonna take forever then it’s a bad match.”

Kiku doesn’t get it. When it’s put down as a plot on paper it sounds ridiculous to him. Is communicating that hard for some people? A lot of problems would be solved if people didn’t put baseless standards and rules on things. He tells Mei this much, and she frowns, watching a commercial for a makeup brand try to sell her mascara.

“You know.” She pouts and motions to her forehead, “You’re starting to get a wrinkle between your eyebrows. Everytime you glare at the screen it shows up.”

These moments of her’s aren’t charming, but Kiku has learned to endure them. Instead, unattached, he tells her that after this show she should go to bed. Mei responds by sighing dramatically and getting up to get her cake from the fridge. Kiku is able to finish his work in silence then and the episode ends with the cruel colleague confessing to the protagonist that he’s arranged to be married after a steamy sort of-date between them. Mei is silent as Kiku brings out the spare futon and it bothers him just a little; had he said something cruel? Even if they disagreed on things she never stays this mad for so long. Is he worrying too much? Really, he finds himself at a standstill. In the end, maybe she’s just thinking about the drama. If it’s anything serious, she’ll just talk when she wants to.

A half hour after he turns out the lights, she finally does.

“Kiku,” she whispers into the dark of the cramped apartment, “Did you fall asleep?”

Kiku grimaces, his mind swimming back to the surface. He was halfway  _ there _ , but now he’s awake again.

“No.” He says, “What is it?”

“I’m sorry I said you had wrinkles.”

It partially worries him that now there’s more than one accounted for. Mostly, he’s too tired to be bothered about it anyway.

“It’s fine.”

Mei shifts in her futon, “I was just mad. Kiku? Can I tell you something?”

He has to get up at five in the morning, but Kiku takes a brief visit to Venus and let’s it slide. He gives a small hum as acknowledgment. 

“You have to keep it a secret, ok? If Tao or Yongsoo found out I’d die.”

“Ok.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

“ _ Really _ ?”

“Mei.”

She stops, and takes a moment. Kiku’s apartment is dyed a soft blue from the moonlight flooding through the window, and he watches his ceiling with vague attention. He’s interested in the topic, but he’s also exhausted and so he tries to stay awake. The mention of their brothers cushioned any seriousness of it, so Kiku isn’t really worried so much as he’s curious.

“Last week,” she finally says, “A guy confessed to me.”

A sharp alarm of vigilance hits Kiku’s chest and despite himself he turns to her. 

“Who?”

“You can’t!” Mei is frowning. “You can’t ask his name.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna get all over-protective!” She waves him away, annoyed, “I don’t need that right now. And it’s not even important.”

“Do I know him?”

“Kiku!”

The impulses of a big brother begins to subside. As much as it shocks him, he guesses he can see her side. She’s older now, she doesn’t need to be sheltered forever. She can make her own choices. Kiku settles back down, begrudgingly letting it go. Mei nods, satisfied.

“...Did you accept?” Kiku decides to ask instead.

“No. I don’t know if I did the right thing. That’s what I’m worried about.”

Kiku doesn’t have to ask her to explain, as she launches into the full details herself. He was a quiet but nice person in another class. When the boy had confessed he had gone into a whole spiel about how he knows he’s not worthy, and that Mei was cute and perfect, but he would love to have her by his side. 

“I couldn’t deal with that. What was I supposed to do? Tell him he’s worthy? Why was that my job?”

In the middle of this, Kiku feels an itch of familiarity at the back of his mind. Where has he heard this before?

“So I rejected him. I don’t know, half of my friends are saying I should’ve accepted and another half are saying I did the right thing. It’s been bothering me all this time.”

Kiku’s been here before. He doesn’t know if it’s his quiet and contemplative nature, but it seemed easy for his siblings to unload their worries on him. Honestly, Kiku does have a good head on his shoulders, but that doesn’t mean he’s gotten used to playing this role. Instead, Kiku sets his own worries to the side and talks her through it.

“What did you wish he had done?” He asks, acting as a sounding board for her. Mei thinks for a while, looking up at the ceiling in thought.

“I don’t know. I just don’t think it’s fair to put all the work onto one person.”

“You want him to brag?”

“No. Like.” Mei sighs, “...I want to be swept off my feet.”

It all sounds very young and romantic to Kiku. Something out of a movie or a comic book. It’s a very normal thing to want to chase that fantasy, to want to be in the middle of a breathtaking romance. Kiku doesn’t see the appeal. It’s too intimidating for his liking, to be expected to perform like that.

Still. Something is bothering him about all of this, and it has nothing to do with Mei. He almost feels defensive in response to this.

“I guess,” Mei continues, “I guess it’s just really sad to be put on a pedestal by someone.”

And there it is.

It’s like something stabs him in the stomach and Kiku feels like he’s looking into a mirror. Oh.  _ Oh no he’s doing something wrong. _

Kiku tries to settle himself down. These are two completely different things! He scrambles to regain his balance, to comfort himself with common sense. What is he even doing, worrying about something so small and clearly unrelated?

“I-I can see how that’d be depressing.” Kiku mindlessly comments.

“Right?!” Mei sits up, “Like, doesn’t this mean he’s not even trying to  _ really  _ see me? If I go with him I’ll just be expected to be this perfect girl or something! That’s really scary!”

She’s clearly been thinking about this for awhile. Kiku’s heart is hammering in his chest. Try as he might, he can’t help but feel like the universe is scolding him, with Mei as the spokesperson. 

“I just...he doesn’t have to be full of himself. I just want him to treat me like I’m normal. I want him to make the move too. It’s too sad if he thinks I have to read his mind or something.”

Kiku stares at the ceiling with dreadful realization. He can’t even say anything. He just feels like such a  _ coward _ . Artie is within reach now, but he can’t keep thinking he’s the world. He also can’t expect him to do all the work. This isn’t fair. It’s not fair if he just sits back and expects a romance to bloom on its own.

Mei plops back down. “I’m sorry, I guess I got worked up, huh?”

“You’re fine.”

“I feel better though! I think I made the right choice, I guess. If he changes, maybe I’ll give it a chance.”

Kiku’s envious of how easy that sounds. Mei is already back to a better mood, switching easily like the weather. He guesses he doesn’t have to worry too much; she bounces back quickly.

“Thank you for listening.” She shuffles, and smiles at him, “You always give the best advice.”

Kiku doesn’t point out the fact that he hadn’t said anything. He just forces a smile and tells her it’s no problem. He’s out there now, riding a comet, trying to convince himself that he needs to be here now and that if he goes back to Earth he’ll probably burn on contact. They settle back to sleep, but Kiku can’t help himself. He tries to word this in the most innocuous and harmless way as he can. He begins to burn in the atmosphere.

“Mei.”

“Hmm?”

“Er.” He gulps, “So who would be the best guy for that job?”

Mei blinks, and thinks with a small hum.

“I guess a really cool one?”

And he explodes into ashes.

* * *

 

Arthur takes the train home in a sleepy state where he’s barely alive and tries to recover.

He listens to music on the way home, something punkish and hot playing through his earbuds. He’s looking down at his hands resting on his book bag, waiting for the music to make the time go faster. There’s a bandaid on his left ring finger and the back of his right hand. Today had been rough; it was an antsy Siberian who had gotten him today when he had tried to trim his claws. One the the shorthair Tabbies refused to be brushed. A German Rex was being picky about his food. The things less said about Scone the better.

Looking after the cats took a lot of work. But also, it was much easier for Arthur and despite his complaints he loved looking after things. Maybe it’s because he’s a big brother. Maybe it’s because he’s mouthy and lonely. Either way, he doesn’t hate his job but that didn’t mean it wasn’t draining at times.

He doesn’t want to think of the essays he has to write or the books he has to read. He leans his head back, focusing on the husky voice of the vocalist singing to him in English, and the beautiful cry of a guitar.

He wonders what music Mr. Honda listens to.

It’s a strange thought, but he wonders if it’s the cat cafe that reminded him of Mr. Honda. There are other regulars, of course. But the only one he’d want to show this music to was him. He’s a pretty nice person and he’s easy to talk to. He must work in sales, he guesses. He realizes he hasn’t even asked.

Arthur digs into his pocket and checks the date. He smiles, satisfied, pockets it, and tilts his head back again.

Three days until Saturday.

He hopes he’ll remember to ask him in three days.

* * *

 

Kiku is late to come to the cafe that week due to an impulse from his boss to work longer hours. In addition to this, Kiku endured more nitpicking and another short lecture with Feliciano sending him sympathetic looks from across the office. But it didn’t matter now, he tells himself. Right now he’s right where he needs to be.

“Oh,” Francis smiles at him, “I was wondering if you were going to come in today or not.”

“Work ran late.” Kiku replies sheepishly as he takes out his wallet.

“Well, it’s good you’re here. Your darling is waiting for you.”

Kiku’s cheeks flush. Was his crush that obvious? Was Artie waiting for him? But Francis motions to the glass door leading to the lounge and Kiku sees Scone impatiently pacing in front of it.

“He’s really taken a liking to you, hasn’t he?” Francis asks rhetorically and takes Kiku’s payment.

Scone meows and meows at Kiku when he steps in, and that sort of affection is more than Kiku can take. His heart feels like it’s going to burst. He’s half tempted to scoop him up in his arms, but remembers the house rules. Instead, he lets Scone follow him to their usual spot and the cat watches him patiently as Kiku gets settled in. It’d be nice if Kiku could have these moments at home. A cat to wait for him after work, something to look forward to. He absentmindedly pets Scone as he imagines such a scenario. It’d be nice if he could adopt him. He scratches under his chin, and Scone tilts his head back with appreciation. He rumbles with a deep and delighted purr.

It really is as if all the stresses just slide right off. It’s hard to describe, but maybe it's that simplicity in comparison that lets it provide comfort. The simple sight of a cat’s soft and wordless happiness.

Then Scone stops. He snaps in attention and runs off. Confused, Kiku watches him dart in front of the kitchen entrance, in front of Artie, blocking his legs. In a swift return, Artie stumbles but catches himself. He rights a tray he was carrying with impressive grace.

“Scone!” Artie yells, “Oh, you brat!”

The cat darts back to Kiku, satisfied with it’s work. Kiku knows he shouldn’t, but it’s hard not to laugh.

“He’s giving you trouble?” Kiku asks when Artie finally gets around to him. He’s still seething.

“Yes! He’s been trying to trip me all day. It’s like a game for him.”

Scone rests by Kiku’s side, swinging his tail, unaware and unashamed.

“Mr. Honda,” Artie gets Kiku’s attention again, kneeling by them, “I need your help.”

Kiku hates how he does that to him. God, he does it so easily. “Ok.” He manages to say, “What is it?”

“When he’s about to pounce could you just, I don’t know. Grab him?” Artie motions, “Don’t hurt him, just make sure he doesn’t try to break my neck, you know.”

Kiku still tries not to laugh. This all felt so funny to him. The idea that he had to protect this person from a  _ cat  _ of all things, that only he could do this, was ridiculous.

He agreed. Besides, it was sort of fun to work with Artie like this. The idea that he was keeping him safe from a small bully of an animal was ridiculous but cheerfully distracting. And so poor Scone had a system set up against him. Kiku didn’t do much more then place a hand on his back when Artie made an appearance and he was about to pounce. Funnily enough this is all it took for him to give up. Scone was energetic and warm to the touch, and Kiku was happy to see after a few rounds of this he just gave up all together. Meanwhile, Artie and Kiku would exchange knowing glances, some kind of silent exchange. Kiku wonders if this was something that let him get close to him. He can vaguely remember some kind of quote about how people are closer when they don’t need words at all. Does this count? Or, is he just convincing himself that this role of protector could feel romantic? In his mind Kiku imagines what if it was true:

_ “Mr. Honda! You’re so cool protecting me from that cat!” Artie would exclaim and throw himself into his arms, “Please marry me! I’m madly in love with you!” _

_ “Of course.” Kiku purrs as he dips him, “I would love to make you mine.” _

_ “Mr. Honda!” _

_ Cue the sound of wedding bells. _

Kiku blinks out of this scene. He’s kidding himself, of course. He knows he doesn’t look cool; but it’d be nice to think he does.

For his work, Artie coaxes him into accepting a cup of tea and a plate of scones on the house. However, maybe in retaliation or in a final show of defiance, Scone bumps into him as he brings it out. Artie stumbles, spilling jam on the front of his apron. He gets angry again, calling back to the cat, but at this point Kiku can’t help but notice there are  _ two  _ teacups on the tray.

He gulps.

“Honestly,” Artie huffs, setting down the cup on the table with a shaky  _ clink,  _ “At least it’s the end of my shift.”

“Y-Yes.” Kiku tries to steady his heart as Artie settles down. This time he hasn't even asked permission. Are they reaching a new level of closeness? He was wrong before; is  _ this _ the silent intimacy that comes from getting closer to someone? Or is, once again, Kiku just having illusions of grandeur and placing more meaning on something then it should have? Across from him, Kiku watches as Artie pulls out a handkerchief from his apron pocket to wipe up the jam. Kiku’s eyes catch on an intricate weave of reds and greens.

“Beautiful.”

Artie stops. Kiku flushes.

“S-Sorry, I just.” He tries to frame his words better, “The pattern on that handkerchief.”

Artie pauses for a moment. Hesitant, he holds it up for Kiku to see. It’s a delicate but lovely embroidery of a group of roses. Full, red, and elegant.

“Look, I know,” Artie confesses, “It’s girly, right?”

“Did you buy that?”

Artie pauses again, and leans back. “I made it.”

Kiku tries to picture it. Artie with thread and needle, working diligently at such a patient craft. Maybe it’s his own biases, maybe it’s his own tastes, but he feels like it fits Artie wonderfully.  

“May I see it?”

Artie watches him from a moment but hands it over. Kiku studies it, impressed. He tells him as much, but Artie vehemently refuses.

“Look, it’s silly. And it’s just a hobby.”

“You don’t have to be modest.”

“ _ You _ don’t have to be polite.”

Kiku glances up. There was a sort of playful bite to that statement that Kiku wasn’t expecting but wasn’t readily turning down either. After a moment, he smiles.

“Then, shall I be honest?”

“Go ahead.”

“It’s terrible. Horrid. How could you.”

Artie simply stares at him with no response, and momentarily Kiku panics. Was that too personable? It feels foreign to poke fun at a person you like. But then Artie’s shoulders shake, his mouth twists into a smile, and he erupts into a soft laugh. Kiku’s heart leaps. He did it. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Artie takes in a deep breath.

“Sorry. It’s something I’ve been teased about before so...”

“I can understand that feeling.”

“Oh?”

Kiku picks up the teacup, still warm and fragrant. A fluffy cartoon Persian decorates the side and Kiku studies it as he musters up the courage. He has to start giving too.

“None of my family or friends know I come here. I try to keep it a secret.”

“Why?”

Kiku gives a tired smile. “At my age and with my profession I worry I must look quite strange.”

“I think that’s stupid.”

Kiku’s heart sinks and he looks at Artie. Artie immediately begins to scramble.

“Oh, no, not you. God. I mean, it’s silly for people to judge you for that.”

This man was going to give him a heart attack at this rate.

“I think anyone could relate to this anyway.” Artie vaguely waves his hand “Being able to drink coffee surrounded by cats. No matter how old you are, anyone would love that. I’ll be honest with you; this is one the best jobs I’ve had because of that.”

Kiku takes a sip of his tea. Bitter, just like how he likes it. “Even with Scone?”

“Well. Except for Scone. He’s still an ass.”

The corner of Kiku’s mouth twitch as he tries not to laugh into his tea. An uncensored Artie is a good look too. Artie offers to fix up Kiku a scone, and despite himself Kiku doesn’t refuse. He sees Scone sneak in by the side, hiding under the table, snuggled next to Kiku’s legs. The cat purrs in a quiet hum, eyes closed. This is so peaceful, Kiku thinks as he pets his back. There is a tentative air to this whole thing, but Kiku wants to hold onto it and never let go. Artie’s so much better up close. He can’t back down now. He looks down to the handkerchief still sitting on the table between them and years of reading the mood helps him.

“I’m sure your embroidery would make a good gift too. It looks professional.”

Kiku is expecting Artie to just say thank you and be done with it. He’s expecting a casual conversation about something mundane. Instead, he has struck gold. Artie, flushes as he hands Kiku a scone decorated with jam and cream.

“I don’t give it as a gift.”

“I’m sorry. Did I-”

“No, no. Nothing bad happened. It’s just...this stupid rule I have.”

Kiku wonders if he should press or not, but watching Artie he realizes the best thing is to let him decide. Besides him, Scone rolls onto his side and Kiku pets his belly next in an attempt to preoccupy himself. Artie takes a moment as if he’s weighing his options and he looks up, looking Kiku in the eye.

“Mr. Honda, we’ve known each other for four months now, right?”

Kiku does some quick mental math and nods. It sounded about right.

“Right.” Artie says as if he confirmed something for himself. “Look I came up with this when I was younger and I got heavily into Austen. It’s stupid but I can’t bring myself to break it.”

“What is it?”

Artie looks away, cheeks still pink. His eyes are so green, Kiku thinks. So vibrant.

“The first person I want to give my embroidery to is to the man I fall in love with. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Kiku flutters.

There’s a lot here. Kiku’s been given a gift and there’s a lot to unpack about it. The confirmation of it having to be a man, the fact that this means he’s still single, the thoughtful nature of it, the very intimacy of him sharing this with Kiku. He’s telling him this. Before brutal logic can settle in, Kiku takes this fact and flies with it. This must mean something. Please, by God, please mean something.

Artie frowns after a while and cuts a glance his way.

“You think it’s stupid.” He accuses. Kiku realizes his silence is being taken the wrong way and he shakes his head. Artie can be criminally young sometimes.

“No, I don’t.” He defends himself.

“I told you don’t be polite.”

“I think it’s cute.” Kiku blurts out. Instantly, he regrets it and Artie’s face turns a deeper shade of red. An awkward and tense moment settles between them. If Kiku was a different man, he might take this chance. He’d recite some wolfish lines about how he thinks Artie is cute and they should go on a date later. He’d be all gross and fake and pretty. But Kiku is an honest man and so he looks away instead and slaves away thinking of the right response. He stares at his half eaten scone, looking for answers. Then Artie leans forward, and Kiku’s breath catches at the sight of just his shadow.

“Mr. Honda-”

Kiku’s cell phone rings.

They both jump in shock, abruptly brought back to Earth. Kiku, with politeness burned into his personality, answers it without thinking. It’s a coworker. He asks if Kiku made sure to email that thing from before. Kiku feels like he’s walking through a dream as he’s slowly brought back to topics of work and real life. During the call, he notices Artie gathering their dishes and there’s nothing to his face. No sadness or hope or anger. Just neutral concentration.

When Kiku finally hangs up, Artie asks the time. After being given it he nods.

“Your time’s up. Do you want to pay for more?”

Kiku doesn’t know if Artie’s mad. He can’t tell. He’s so good at reading people but there’s an unhurt casualness to Artie that confuses him. Kiku refuses. At the very least, Artie walks him out and Scone watches him leave with what Kiku can only decipher as a disappointed but unsurprised glare.

Before he leaves, Artie calls his name. Kiku looks back, and Artie leans against the doorway, arms crossed, face indecipherable.

“Did you mean it in a good way or a bad way?”

Kiku blinks. “What do you mean?”

“When you said it was cute.”

Kiku blushes. Butterflies beat against his stomach. He looks away.

“...In a good way.”

Artie chuckles. A cold wind breezes past, and Kiku looks back. With the light of the cafe framing him from the back, Artie seems radiant and unreal. He’s smirking with such a delight that Kiku wants to eat him up right there.

“Good.” He tells him and these words settle deep down into Kiku’s heart. He steps back, half-closing the door. “Be safe getting home, Mr. Honda.”

And it closes. Kiku stands there in the street, breathless and alone, with the wind whipping past him. So cute, he thinks.

_ How can a person be so cute?! _

* * *

 

For the next week, nothing can touch Kiku. He sustains himself on this moment like a getaway, replaying the conversation and the images much like one rewatches a favorite movie. He has no regrets, he has no second guesses, he only has a clear and wonderful message given to him at the end of each viewing.

_ Things are going well! Things are going so, so well! _

His boss will lecture him, his coworkers will slack off, Yao will pay him a visit and load his fridge with weird and exotic ingredients and Kiku doesn’t care. An NHK salesman will stand at his door for an hour, the price of eggs will go up, his mother will talk to him on the phone about this nice single daughter of a friend of hers and none of it will concern Kiku at all. He’s not on Earth anymore. He is taking a nice vacation amongst the cosmos and he’s not coming down anytime soon.

Kiku squints at the sky, half of him here and half of him there. The sun is blocked by a passing cloud, and an airplane makes a sharp line in the sky as it flies. It’s chilly outside, but at least the cold is waking him up. It was Ludwig’s suggestion that they should take more walks during their lunch breaks. It’s healthier and it keeps them active in their older age. Certainly, Kiku feels more alive now then he did at his desk. They’ve stopped at a vending machine where Feliciano weighs his options. He’s prattering on to Ludwig about his choices: Juice is nice and sweet, but what if he gets sleepy? Coffee is bitter, but maybe he needs that? Oh, if he has tea that would look really sophisticated right? Ludwig doesn’t get it. Admittedly, Kiku doesn’t either, but he’s only partially there anyway.

Kiku’s in a good mood. He’s been humming as he worked all day.

“Kiku,” Feliciano calls out, “Do you want coffee?”

“That sounds nice.”

The machine whirls and clanks, and Kiku takes the can, grateful. It’s warm to the touch.

“You know,” Kiku can’t help himself, “I talked with him the other day.”

“The client?” Ludwig guesses. Kiku’s face falls slightly.

“No,” he coughs awkwardly, “Artie.”

“Oh! That’s why you’ve been in such a good mood!” Feliciano notes, opening the juice he had caved in and gotten. “How did it go? So you took Ludwig’s advice from before?”

“It wasn’t really advice.” Ludwig deflects, blushing. Kiku, riding an uncharacteristic high, the likes of which he’s only ever had when he was a teenager, chatters. He doesn’t really talk so much as he  _ chatters,  _ rehearsing the conversation they had in the same way he’s been rehearsing it in his head since yesterday. They have something in common! They’re getting along better! Artie feels closer now. More in reach. The three walk around the park as Kiku explains this, and near the end a shame begins to creep in. Had he said too much? But Feliciano is smiling and nodding. Ludwig regards all this with a patient attention. When Kiku’s finally done, Feliciano takes a sip from his drink. The park is bright and scenic but seemingly vast. It’s starting to sound intimidating now that he’s put it into words. It’s beautiful but too much. Feliciano looks down to his drink.

“That’s nice and all. But you should be careful too, right?”

“...Eh?”

“I mean, it sounds like things went well. And you seem to really like him. But now you’re going to have to make a move, you know.”

Kiku pauses. He’s lost him.

“I...don’t understand.”

“Well, it’s like my grandpa always told me,” Feliciano looks at him with bright and pressuring eyes, “You have to be extra careful before you take a relationship to the next level. If you’re too quick they’ll get offended. If you’re too slow, they’ll get impatient.”

Feliciano tilts his head. “He said some other things too but I think it only applies to girls.”

Kiku doesn’t hear this last part. Instead he feels like he was hit with a heavy dose of modesty. He was getting carried away! He needs to think of this seriously! Honestly, it really is just a silly crush on a beauty of a waiter, but Kiku still thinks he needs to handle this carefully. Maybe this is him getting carried away too. Feliciano was blunt, but there’s truth to this. He feels like he’s staring at his own reflection. Like the a mist has been lifted and the real image has finally showed up. 

Before he can say anything, Feliciano switches topics then and mentions how this reminds him of a drama he’s been watching recently. Something about how a business woman was being pursued by her childhood friend. He’d broken up with his girlfriend for her and now she’s mad he did that and so on and so forth. Ludwig doesn’t get it. Why didn’t he just go out with her in the first place. Feliciano goes on to explain that no, it’s because he didn’t want to  _ restrain  _ her and he was feeling self-conscious. Kiku’s topic is left behind. He ignores the conversation, and mulls over Feliciano’s words for a bit. It’s a scary thing to want someone. You have to make your own moves too. There is a balance to these things, but he doesn’t want to back down now. 

Impulsively, Kiku takes a  gulp of his coffee and then gags. Too hot! Feliciano pats his back until he feels better and they fret over him for a while. After Kiku gathers himself, he looks forlornly at the coffee can with tears in his eyes and a soreness to his throat.

He should take this slow.

* * *

 

Kiku doesn’t really get to make a plan when he makes his next move. In a way, he’s proud of himself for this and in another he stresses himself out with more self-doubt as a result.

It didn’t even happen on a Saturday.

Kiku is a young bachelor who’s still in a mediocre position so it’s little surprise he reads the sales ads for supermarkets. And if he has to drag himself back to the supermarket after getting home, just to score a deal on mackerel, then by god he will. The weather is getting colder and Kiku finds his jacket missing. This isn’t rare; along with using Kiku’s apartment as a hotel, his family also had the knack of swiping clothes if they hadn’t prepared beforehand. He’s still waiting for Tao to return a scarf and Mei to find a shirt she’d borrowed and then subsequently lost. He’s grown up with these problems, so for now he mostly finds himself resigned, if tired. He digs through his closet to find an oversized jacket he had mistakenly bought online a long time ago. Swimming in it, Kiku takes the short trek, reciting his shopping list in his head.

By the time Kiku gets there, the mackerel has sold out. He settles for sardines. He pitifully looks down at the package and mentally he rewrites all the recipes he had been looking forward to for the week. Then he hears his voice. 

“No, no, it’s fine.” Artie awkwardly laughs, “Right, could I get your name again?”

Kiku stops. His heart begins to beat fast and he feels his fight-or-flight instinct kick in. This isn’t fair. The universe can’t just  _ do  _ this to him.

Quickly, he settles himself down and looks down the aisle he had heard the voice. He was right though; there’s Artie, typing something into his phone while a housewife thanks him.

“I’m so sorry to bother you like this. It’s just that my friends and I have been wanting to visit for awhile now.”

“It’s no problem, ma’am.” Artie smiles and Kiku notes the forced expression on his face. “I’ve written you in for 2pm on Wednesday.”

He’s barraged in more thanks yous and apologies and Kiku puts together the scenario. Artie’s still wearing his shirt for the cafe, with a basket hanging in his hand. Had he just gotten off of work? He guesses she was making a reservation. Kiku, still feeling confident after their last conversation, decides to try his luck.

Just as the housewife excuses herself, Kiku sneaks up behind Artie.

“Could I make a reservation too?”

Artie jumps, and whirls around.

“Mr. Honda!”

Kiku smiles softly, proud of himself. He’s getting better at this.

“What are you doing here?”

Kiku weakly holds up his basket as an answer. “I live close to here. And you?”

“I just got off work. Thought I’d buy some stuff on the way home.”

Kiku doesn’t mean to but he takes a quick glance of Artie’s basket. He suppresses the urge to make a face. “Marmite…?”

“Oh, yes.” Artie brightens up, “Highly nutritious stuff. Delicious, too. Have you tried it?”

Well, Kiku figures, he should’ve known Artie would have his drawbacks. It could’ve been worse. Bad taste buds is pretty harmless if compared to other things. Like slipping into a routine, they end up talking and shopping together. It’s getting easier talking to him. Kiku’s shyness has begun taking a backseat, disappearing like it never existed. In the middle of this, Kiku asks about the housewife from before. Artie makes a face.

“It’s because I’m still wearing my work shirt. People think they can just walk up and ask questions. I should’ve brought a jacket.”

_ Of course  _ Kiku knows. It’s too perfect. It’s scary how perfect it is. His jacket sits at his shoulders like a heavy cowl. The problem is working up the courage to offer it. How do you do that without sounding like a creep?

_ “Here.” Kiku says as he delicately places it on Artie’s shoulers, smirking like a devil. “It’s cold out, you know.” _

_ Artie swoons, tearing up. “Mr. Honda! You’re so kind, but I want something else as well…” _

_ Kiku grabs Artie by the waist and draws him close. “Then let me heat you up with my love!” _

_ “Mr. Honda!” _

Kiku blinks. He almost wants to slap himself. He needs to stop doing this.

“Do you want to borrow my jacket?” He asks flatly. Artie doesn’t swoon or fall into Kiku’s arms. There are no rose petals or sappy love music. But his cheeks do turn a cute shade of pink. 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.” Artie shakes his head. Kiku knows he’s not dashing enough to make this into a romantic moment. But he knows he wants to give him something and he’d rather take the chance then sit back and let it pass. Kiku shrugs off the jacket and holds it out for him.

“Please.” He smiles. A moment passes before Artie reaches for it. Kiku feels like his knees will give out and he half considers going back on the offer. This isn’t me, he realizes. But maybe that’s what he needs to start doing.

Artie grabs it with long fingers and takes it.

“Thank you.”

It’s there again, some sort of palpable pressure to the air. Something significant like a key turning in a lock. Artie shrugs on the jacket and his expression is soft. The jacket doesn’t make him look any more handsome, but Kiku can’t help but feel a delightful weight of pride. Artie looks back up at him and he frowns.

“How close is your home to the station?”

Kiku’s thrown off. “I’m sorry?”

“Is it on the way?”

“...It is.”

“Good. I was hoping you could walk me there.”

Kiku, a usually stoic and calm person, turns as red as a camellia flower. He must be dreaming. But then again, this is being asked to him at a grocery store in the evening. It has just the right amount of normalcy for him to trust this, but just enough intimacy for him to still wonder. Kiku nods. As they finish up, Kiku’s thinking how Artie might like him too. In a way it feels like he’s being tested but also flirted with. It is entirely out of Kiku’s comfort zone but he can’t help feeling thrilled about the whole thing. Artie changes the previous topic of their conversation, soon after. On the walk back he’s talking about his classes and the societal themes in  _ Jane Eyre _ . Kiku likes the topic and listening to him, he feels grounded. 

“...So of course, everyone thinks the dichotomy at play is the power the rich have over the poor. Poor Jane keeps getting used by all these vapid rich people, but that’s such a basic way of thinking of it.”

“Is that so.”

“While I’m here sitting in the corner of the class trying to figure out why people keep falling in love with bastards.”

Kiku laughs.

“It’s true! Mr. Rochester is supposed to be this tortured soul in need of saving but I think he’s just a total bastard. He keeps putting Jane through all these trials to earn his attention or to make her jealous.”

“Perhaps he’s just shy?’

“Shy, my ass. If a guy who keeps his ex-wife locked in the attic is shy then I’m a damn saint.”

Kiku’s stomach hurts from laughing so much. Artie’s just so quick with words he can’t help it. Artie looks at him, satisfied.

“You don’t understand half of what I’m talking about do you?”

“I know some of the book, but not all of it.” Kiku confesses.

“You’re a good person, Mr. Honda.”

Kiku stops laughing, and he feels humbled. It’s off-putting when you’re given compliments out of nowhere.

“You just listen so patiently. You’re polite. It’s nice.” Artie, seemingly catching himself, begins to blush and looks away. “And I bet you wouldn’t lock your ex-wife in an attic.” He tacks on as if to soften the blow. It’s very simple as far as compliments go. But for Kiku it means so much coming from Artie. He looks down, shyly, trying to match his gait.

“I simply do what anyone would do.”

“See it’s sentences like that, that make you sound cool.”

_ Cool.  _ The word sticks to Kiku’s heart in such a shallow but elated way. In the long run it doesn’t mean anything. It’s all surface-level and vain. But he wants to love it. Please, let him love this.

The air is chilly and the streets are quiet. They walk from streetlight to streetlight, a line of to guide them in the evening. Their bags rustle with each movement and Kiku likes this. There’s nothing to this. There is only them and that comforting thought.

Artie is nothing special and that’s why he is everything.

“Thank you for walking with me, Mr. Honda.” Artie says as they reach the station. Kiku can’t help but think how natural he looks in his jacket, how much that means to him. Kiku looks up at him straight in the eye.

“Kiku.”

“Sorry?”

“My name is Kiku.” He tells him, voice steady. “It feels odd to have you call me Mr. Honda. I don’t want to think I’m any higher than you.”

Artie blushes. He looks down at the spot between them, seemingly lost in thought and taken off guard. 

“Kiku.” He tries out. 

For a second time, Kiku flutters. As selfish as it sounds, he wants to hear it a hundred times more. 

“You know, my name’s not Artie.”

Kiku stops. “No?”

Artie smiles ruefully like someone had just told a bad joke. “No. It was a stupid idea from Francis to put that on my name tag. It’s just a nickname. My name’s Arthur.” 

“That’s not too different.” Kiku says, almost laughing.

“I told you it was stupid.”

“...Arthur, then.”

The look he receives is one of gentle approval. Kiku feels like he’s done well. He feels accepted. Arthur grins at him.

“Well, I guess after knowing you for four months I can finally say it: It’s nice to meet you, Kiku.”

They laugh together. Perhaps the tenderness of this was too much to handle, but it’s Arthur who looks away first, scratching the side of his nose.

“I’ll see you on Saturday then?”

“Of course.”

Arthur seems to struggle with something else to say, but Kiku catches that weight for him.

“Good night, Arthur.”

“...Good night, Kiku.”

On the way home, Kiku feels like he’s walking on air. He doesn’t replay the moments and he doesn’t regret his words. Instead he seems to bask in its happiness and simplicity. It all felt so right. Everything was where it needed to be. Arthur is not this amazing person but simply himself. And he accepts him.

Kiku closes the door to his apartment behind him and it all hits him. He drops the bags and leans against the door. He slides to the floor, breathless and amazed.

This isn’t a crush anymore.

Kiku realizes he has fallen in love.

* * *

 

Things go very well after that.

Things don’t usually fall into place so perfectly for Kiku. But he begins to experience a string of good luck, and him and Arthur begin a sort of cheeky but subtle honeymoon period. Conversations come easier; Kiku finds he can talk just about anything with Arthur and he’ll have depths and opinions he wouldn’t have expected. He reads, a lot, with deep insight and snarky responses to each piece. He argues with Kiku about which is the proper way to brew tea. When he was younger, he used to garden. He has a hidden interest in the occult, and while Kiku doesn’t understand it, he does admire Arthur’s enthusiasm. He opens up more about his embroidery and shows him pictures on his phone of his latest projects. He asks about Kiku’s family and sympathizes with the problems that come with having too many siblings. It takes awhile, but Kiku comes to like answering questions about himself. It’s entirely childish to want someone to pay attention to you like this. But he can’t help himself; Arthur makes it feel ok.

During all this, Scone watches on and picks on Arthur whenever he gets the chance. At first they think Scone may never come to accept Arthur. But one day, during a casual chat about a manga Kiku was reading, Arthur stops. He looks behind him and sees Scone playing with the strings of his apron. The two look with amazement.

“Well.” Arthur chuckles, “Would you look at that.”

Scone sees that he’s been noticed. Quickly, he climbs up Arthur’s back, and Arthur yelps in surprise. The cat, using Arthur’s head as a jumping pad, jumps off and runs up a ledge. Kiku laughs, and Arthur shoots him a frazzled glare.

It was something, even if only for a moment.

One day, Kiku points out something.

“He sort of looks like you, doesn’t he?”

Arthur’s serving Kiku a cup of coffee when he says this and he looks up, confused. Kiku motions to Scone who has thrown himself onto Kiku’s lap. He’s the very picture of comfort, fluffy and fat, his stomach slowly rising and falling. His paws twitch every now and then as he naps. Arthur makes a face.

“He does not.”

“He does.” Kiku scratches the top of the cat’s head and he begins to purr, “These markings. Don’t they look like eyebrows?”

“Are you trying to make me mad?”

Kiku tilts his head at him. “That attitude too. The way you look at people is the same.”

“Should I take this coffee back?”

Kiku laughs lightly. “You don’t think he’s cute?”

“I do.” Arthur deadpans, “When he’s not being an absolute terror.”

A few weeks pass like this with unabashed delight and clever flirting. In that time, Kiku doesn’t make a move. He thinks about it, of course. But things are going so well, he figures it’s one of those things that will happen naturally on its own. The way they are now, it wouldn’t be surprising if they just easily slipped into the role of a couple. He decides there’s no need to be assertive about this. Surely, they’re happy as they are now.

He’s probably scared though. In an effort to preserve a paradise, he plays it safe.

Sometimes he acts without thinking however. And he would be lying if he didn’t say that those times were thrilling.

It was a big project, that’s why. Kiku’s worked all-nighters of course, and he’s stayed behind for work plenty of times. But this time it was the combination of an all-nighter and picking up someone else’s slack. Kiku  _ had  _ been running on coffee, but soon even that turned on him. He was running on fumes and exhaustion and while the logical thing would be just to go home and sleep, he was finally experiencing that youth of falling in love. For better or for worse. This is how Kiku ended up in the cafe, mostly in a daze, and just as Arthur joined him, he nodded off. The last thing he remembers is hitting something soft and the sound of Arthur’s voice calling for him.

Kiku dreams in abstraction, about sitting in a garden and watching Scone hunt fish out of a pond. Before Kiku could ask the cat about it, he opens his mouth and calls himself a coward.

When Kiku finally wakes up, his vision is blurry and everything's bright. Even upon waking he had an exhaustion clinging to his bones. He blinks a few times to come to and that’s when he finally sees Arthur above him, looking at something on his phone. Arthur notices him.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Kiku feels something nudge his leg and he looks down to see a black Burmese stepping on him. It looks at him with half regard and then saunters off. With this he can at least tell he’s still in the cafe. Kiku looks back up at Arthur, his eyes burning.

“What happened?”

“You fell asleep. Have you been working hard?”

Like an old friend, Kiku feels embarrassment revisit him. What an embarrassing thing to doze off like that here. He begins to get up before he feels movement under his head. With his consciousness slowly piecing back together, Kiku finally starts to notice something is off.

“What…?”

“Um.” Arthur gulps, cheeks red, “You also, er. Fell on my lap. I mean, I don’t mind now.”

This wakes him up. Kiku quickly scrambles up, even more ashamed then before. He bows his head and apologizes profusely before Arthur shakes his head.

“I told you, I don’t mind  _ now _ , I mean I was embarrassed before but-”

“No, that was thoughtless of me. It would’ve been best if you had moved me.”

“I was going to but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Your work-”

“Francis saw.” Arthur frowns. “He said it was best to let you rest.”

Kiku burns more. Somehow the idea that they had an audience made it worse.

(However does Kiku like the idea of using Arthur’s lap as a pillow?)

(Don’t be absurd. We know that answer.)

But Kiku places social rule above anything as shameful as that. So, for now, that’s all he can think about. He bows his head again.

“I put you in an awkward situation because of my own problems. I hope you can forgive me.”

Kiku doesn’t look up because he doesn’t have the gall to. Right now, he knows it’s best for Arthur to make the first move after the apology. He waits for him to dismiss him again, but instead Arthur leans forward.

“If you can help it, you shouldn’t push yourself.”

Kiku looks up. He’s surprised to find Arthur’s face so close to his and his eyes are so bright. Kiku can sense the mood, and something has shifted again between them. Would it be so surprising at this point? Would it be so hard? Things are being communicated wordlessly right now, and he knows that there’s something here. He should do something. 

He  _ should _ kiss him.

Before Kiku does, he stops and thinks. But should it be him? Or is that too much? Wouldn’t it be better to talk it out first? Kiku is not impulsive. A love story should be a mutual conversation, right? If he started with action than words, then what sort of man does that make him? There’s too much room for misinterpretation. If anything, he’s being smart about this.

Before Kiku can make any move, he feels something push against his arm. They both look and there’s Scone again, rubbing his face against Kiku. He meows loudly. When Kiku looks back, Arthur’s retreated.

“You should go home and rest.”

The mood is gone. Kiku tries not to feel hurt about this, because he knows he has plenty of time anyway. He shouldn’t think too hard about this and he agrees. Arthur refunds the money (“Only because you’re a regular”) and is about to go back into the lounge before Kiku has a change of heart.

“Arthur.”

Arthur stops and watches him curiously.

“Are you sure you didn’t mind?”

His face twists into a glare as if Kiku had just said something deeply offensive. It makes him feel small.

“Don’t be stupid.” Arthur huffs, “Go home and sleep.”

He shuts the door behind him. Kiku didn’t think it was possible to given an answer and a non-answer in so little words.

* * *

 

Well, you didn’t think it would be  _ that  _ easy, did you?

A crack begins to grow one evening and Kiku finds himself hopelessly lost and confused on what could have caused it. It’s not that he says or does anything with cruelty. He also doesn’t act callously. Instead Kiku had done the things he’s always been doing and acting the way he always does. It’s just that Arthur takes an inexplicable twist. 

When Kiku arrived at the cafe, Scone wasn’t there to greet him like always. Instead he found Arthur fruitlessly trying to reach him from atop one of the walkways.

“Oh, Kiku, good.” Arthur sounds relieved when he sees him, “Maybe you can get him.”

“Is something wrong?”

Arthur motions back up to the ledge and Kiku looks up, Scone looking down at him with big, irritated eyes. He’s laying down on something small and plastic. It takes Kiku a moment.

“Is that a nametag?”

“The little devil stole it from me. I’ve been trying to get it back, but…” Arthur trails off as he reaches up again. Scone bats his hand away, and Arthur lets out a long sigh. He looks at Kiku, pleading, and Kiku understands.

“I don’t mind, but you know I’m not as tall as you.”

“I think we have a stepladder in the back.”

Arthur brings it out and Scone watches them curiously. For better movement, Kiku decides to take off his suit jacket and he throws it onto one of the couches. Scone doesn’t resist when Kiku reaches him. He watches him as Kiku slips the name tag from under his girth. Scone sits up, stretches his back, and then jumps into Kiku’s arms like nothing. For a moment, Kiku has to steady himself, but he ends up laughing at the clinginess of the cat and holds him close, warm and sweet.

He turns back to look at Arthur, fully expecting him to be just as bemused, or at the very least happy to have his name tag saved. Instead, he’s glaring at him, blushing.

“I got it.” Kiku tells him, at a loss of what’s going on.

“I see that.”

There is an edge to his tone and a curtness. Kiku wonders if he just imagined it and after getting down, he offers it to him. Arthur practically swipes it from him, still mad. Scone is heavy on Kiku’s shoulder and he fills his ear with a soft purr.

“You don’t have to show off, you know.” Arthur tells him and walks off without even a thanks.

It comes out of nowhere, so suddenly, that Kiku doesn’t even respond. It takes him even longer to process what had just happened. Was it something he said? Did? Is he just in a bad mood? Well, bad mood or not, that didn’t mean he could act rudely. Why was he even being rude?

He doesn’t join Kiku for the rest of the time and Kiku spends it wondering if he should approach him and feeling too offended to. Kiku doesn’t usually get mad; if anything he’s more prone to detaching himself from the situation and rising above it. But this time he can’t help himself. Walking back home he can only think:  _ What the hell was that?! _

* * *

 

Kiku doesn’t want them but Arthur begins to send him mixed signals. 

He’s not sweet anymore. In the best moments he’s just sort of himself. He treats Kiku with the same casualness as the beginning of their relationship. He serves him tea and cookies and asks basic questions about his day, and then he leaves him alone. It feels like they’ve gone back in time and while there’s nothing wrong with it, it pales in comparison to what they’ve been building up. Other days are worse because Arthur acts like he’s ignoring him, but then makes snide comments when asked. I wasn’t looking your way. I didn’t say anything, don’t worry about it. I’m busy, ok.

Kiku’s cafe visits go back to what they were before, a time to decompress alone. Scone is of course still stuck to him like glue. And while the cat is adorable, and his time there is still peaceful, this awkward air tarnishes the picture like an inkblot thrown on a painting.

Kiku  _ tries  _ to figure out what’s wrong, of course. Maybe he had done something wrong? He tries to strike up conversation whenever Arthur serves him but he always cuts him off with some excuse and leaves.

This goes on for two weeks. It’s more than Kiku can bear. The universe must take pity on him because one day, as Kiku is packing up his things (trying to coax Scone to stop jumping into his bag with little results) he hears Francis call his name.

“Mr. Honda can help you right?”

Arthur and Francis are both staring at him. Arthur is looking like he was caught red-handed, Francis with a mischievous grace.

“I’m sorry?”

“Arthur here lost his train pass.” Francis explains, “He was asking if I could get him home. Sadly, I already have plans.”

“As if.” Arthur mutters, but is promptly ignored.

“I was thinking since you two are so close you might be able to help him.” 

“He’s still a customer you know.” Arthur bites back, “You can’t just drag him into these things-”

“I don’t mind.”

They both stop. Before Kiku could even think twice he just let that out. He feels small to be stared at like this but he knows a chance when he sees one. He can’t let it continue like this. He clears his throat and looks away.

“That is, to say, if that’s okay with you. I really don’t mind.”

Arthur struggles for awhile, making all sorts of grimaces. He sighs loudly and crosses his arms and lets out a futile “Fine.”

After Arthur gathers his own things he gives Kiku the rundown: it’s a thirty minute train ride. It’s a bit of a walk. He  _ really  _ doesn’t have to do this. He could just buy another one. Really, you can’t let Francis push you around like this. But Kiku is steadfast and undeterred. To save on time and to make it easier on Arthur, he gets them a cab instead. In the car, Arthur sits a far enough distance from him and stares out the window like a moody teenager on a road trip. Kiku is running through possible topics in his head when he looks down to his lap and is horrified to see his bag covered in cat hair. He tries brushing it off.

“Got you again, did he?”

He looks to Arthur, who gives a bored gaze. It’s a start.

“I guess he wanted to go home with me. It was rather cute.” Kiku chuckles.

“Why don’t you?” Arthur leans back, “You could adopt him, you know.”

Kiku thinks about it. Scone  _ is  _ very cute. That affectionate nature of his made his heart melt each time. His grumpy but round face was adorable. Kiku doesn’t know if it’s just because how cuddly he is, but he feels like he’s grown a wordless attachment to the little thing.

“I’ve thought about it before. The only problem is that my apartment doesn’t allow pets.”

“If you do adopt him I might get jealous.”

It sounded so ridiculous to Kiku he couldn’t help but frown. It had come out of nowhere too. Kiku blinks.

“...Did you want to adopt him?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, and turned back to the window. Kiku was getting frustrated. He wasn’t just being strange, he was being a brat. Maybe he was finally taking off the rose colored glasses. Kiku didn’t think there would be a time he’d be angry with Arthur, but here he is. He can’t tell what Arthur’s thinking so that’s why he only assumes it makes no sense. And if it did, it’s childish of him to give him the cold shoulder like this. He should confront him, he knows. At the very least, talk it out. 

“Kiku.”

Arthur doesn’t turn to look at him but he still talks.

“Can I ask you something?”

Impulsively Kiku wants to say no, but he’s never been an immature person.

“What is it?”

“What’s your favorite flower?”

Was he being tested or something? Now where had  _ this _ come from? Kiku treads carefully for now.

“Chrysanthemum.”

Arthur chuckles, “Like your name?”

“It’s a very pretty flower.” He defends.

“It is.”

Kiku was waiting for another fight, but instead Arthur had answered him softly. None of this is adding up. He’s about to ask for clarification, for anything, but then Arthur sits up.

“Oh, we’re almost there.”

He hasn’t made any progress at all. He wants to confront him but he doesn’t want to shake things up either. He’s mad but he knows it’s better to talk about this rationally. There has to be a way to confront him gently. There must be something wrong. It’d be too sad if he had drawn back the curtain on Arthur and found out he was nothing like he imagined.

“It’s getting late.” Arthur observes and Kiku tentatively agrees. And then something changes; a mood perhaps, or Arthur. He looks down to his lap and Kiku’s not sure if it’s the dim lighting from the passing streetlights, or the sort of thoughtful hold to his lips. Arthur looks different then, deep in concentration, slightly mad at something. 

“You didn’t have to do this for me.” He says quietly.

“I told you, I don’t-”

“Do you want to come in for coffee or something?”

And it’s lost. For Kiku, there had been a preview of something, but it’s lost again. As if he was lost at sea and lost hold of something solid. What did coffee have to do with anything? He’s mad at him one second, and then tolerant, and then back to snippy. He was asking him questions that lead to nowhere except his disappointed responses. Kiku can tell he’s being tested, but he can’t read minds. It’s all incredibly unfair for Arthur to expect him to pick up on an of this when he hasn’t given him any clues and all he does is get moody. Kiku doesn’t want half-answers and he’s not interested in playing games. So, with petulant pride rising in him, Kiku slides his eyes away.

“I’m sorry, but I must decline,” He tells him, “It’s getting late.”

But when he looks back there is no satisfaction but instead a deep regret.

Arthur looks hurt. Arthur looks unabashedly and openly hurt. He can’t hold Kiku’s gaze so instead he avoids it. Just as soon as it was there, it’s gone however, and Arthur is back to anger. The car stops. Instinctually Kiku goes to pay the cab driver, but then he hears the door open and sees Arthur getting out. He glares at him for awhile, shoulders broad and arms shaking.

He begins to tear up. He goes to say something but thinks better of it. Instead, all he does is slam the door and walk off. 

The image burns itself into Kiku’s mind and it’s all he can think about the rest of the night.

He tries to decipher it, the conversation and his expressions, as if he was trying to solve a puzzle. None of it added up. Was he in the wrong or was Arthur? It really is unfair for him to act like this. But equally, did Kiku do something to cause this? He was crying. All of this just leads back to the fact that he was crying and Kiku couldn’t handle that at all.

It’s only when he gets home is when he realizes he wasn’t talking about coffee.

Is that what he wanted? Are these the things Kiku isn’t picking up on or is he misinterpreting that too? If he was more experienced with love, he might know what to do. If only…

_ “Do you want to come in for coffee or something?” Arthur asks shyly, a charming blush gracing his cheeks. Kiku holds his hand and kisses it. _

_ “Of course.” _

_ “Kiku!” Arthur exclaims happily, “Oh, Kiku would you stop lying to yourself already?” _

_ “What?” _

_ “This would never happen. All of this is just a lie to satisfy yourself. You already know you’re too scared for the real thing.” _

_ There is no more cab. There isn’t even scenery. There is only Kiku and Arthur. _

_ “...Why would you say that?” _

_ “Because it’s what you’ve been wanting to tell yourself this whole time. Falling in love in a cat cafe? Sweeping me off my feet? Aren’t you being full of yourself?” Arthur smiles, “You still don’t know how love works. And maybe it’s better off this way.” _

_ “Arthur,” Kiku chokes, “Arthur would never say this.” _

_ “No, he wouldn’t.” a voice agrees, “But you would. After all, in the end, this was all you.” _

And then Kiku feels nothing.

* * *

 

He stares at his beer grimly and it glows in the light of the restaurant. Kiku feels tired, physically and emotionally. Right now all he can do is preserve what energy he has left then to try to think of anything. It’s late (or at least it feels late). Kiku guesses that it must be near midnight. A waitress picks up finished plates holding skewers as besides him, Ludwig and Feliciano talk. They had begun in a cheery enough setting, but the combination of alcohol and that vulnerability of late night chats, has lead them more deeper topics. As if fitting the mood, a sad Enka song plays, something about a mistress and the fleeting seasons. Kiku’s head is aching and his shoulders are stiff. He tries to refocus back into the conversation.

“It’s simple enough.” Ludwig says solemnly, “What do people expect from us at our age? To work hard and get a higher position. To find a wife and to start a family. I always believed this, and yet…”

Feliciano has laid his head on the table, eyes sleepy.

“It’s pretty hard, isn’t it?” He finishes for him.

A silent air falls on them and Ludwig takes a sip of his beer. Kiku is staring out a window, the moon full and brilliant and blinding. He lets himself fly out there again, but there is no magic. He’s telling himself that there are more galaxies out there we are only vaguely aware of, that there are amazing planets where the surface is made of diamonds and another is made of electricity. Humanity has sent out a message to alien races, telling about their amazing discoveries, in the hopes of finding more. When he thinks about it, he doesn’t worry about paychecks or pressure or how tiresome it is to grow up. 

But he still worries about Arthur.

It’s stupid, isn’t it? Love doesn’t mean the world should end. It’s just love. If he’s going to be like this, then Kiku can’t change him. If Kiku can’t understand then, then there’s no changing that. Isn’t it easier to just let go? Aren’t people just impulsive and temporary things as is? Arthur is just losing his magic, that’s all. Kiku should’ve known this; no one is a miracle.

“Kiku?”

He comes back to Earth and looks back to his friends. Feliciano is still lying his head on the table and Ludwig is balancing his head in his hand.

“What do you think?” Feliciano asks him. Kiku blinks slowly. He forgets where he even is.

“I think I want another beer.”

They split the bill as always. Ludwig leaves first, the only one of them who lived further away. Before they part ways, Feliciano stops Kiku. His nose is red from the cold and he looks blurred to Kiku. Not in the way of an image, but in that vague way that alcohol softens people. Kiku struggles to listen to him, much too lost in his own inner sorrow.

“Are you okay?” He finally catches on, and Kiku thinks for a moment. He wonders if he should spill it all out there or if he’s missed out on some vague time window where he would be allowed to. Instead, he looks down at the sidewalk, a pounding behind his eyes as he tries to think of a way to summarize it all.

“I don’t think-,” He gulps, and re-words it “I just wish I was a better person.”

It’s heavy, and it’s heavy for Kiku, and it’s unnecessarily dramatic of him. But feeling tipsy, and heartbroken and young he ends up saying it anyway. He wishes he was better at understanding him. He wishes he was better at romance. He wishes he was worthy enough to love him, because clearly he’s failing. Feliciano watches him for a moment, somewhat worried but more so confused. Kiku assumes he might not have heard of him, and is ready to change his answer. But then he answers:

“I don’t get it.” He says with love, “Kiku you’re already so amazing.”

It’s something. A small spark of something flowers in his chest. It’s not life-changing or monumental. But Kiku feels something there, in a moment, and then it’s gone. Feliciano brings him into a hug and blubbers about how he shouldn’t worry so much and that he’s a good friend, but it’s mostly Feliciano at his most honest. Kiku doesn’t resist the hug because he’s grown so used to these actions. Instead, he regards the smell of beer on him and the warmth of his hug and his words. It reminds Kiku of childhood, of being looked after, and he thanks him for this.

It sinks in. That idea that to someone he means something.

It’s just so pretty.

When Kiku walks home he allows himself the indulgence of smoking. He holds his jacket over his shoulder, the moon guiding him home. What a cliche, he thinks. A heartbroken man alone at night. He had already been expecting this anyway. He can’t be so sad. He takes in a slow, long draw and blows it out, trying to catch the shapes of the smoke with his eyes. It calms him down, some.

When he gets home and changes shoes, the lights are off save for the glow of the TV screen. Kiku snuffs out his half-finished cigarette, and goes to find that Yao has fallen asleep in front of the TV. He hadn’t called him again. Kiku is too numb to worry about this, and in a daze he just sits in front of the TV and watches what’s on.

It’s a drama. 

A business woman is on the phone with a client. It looks like there’s a big opportunity for her. When she hangs up she looks worried. There’s a flashback, where a colleague of hers is talking about eloping to France together if she leaves with him that night. She looks at the clock and then back at the phone.

Kiku doesn’t think he needs a miracle.

Nothing is going to magically fix when he falls in love. He’s not going to get a higher position. His family won’t stop being a nuisance. His mother will still ask when he’s going to get married. The world will be no closer to exploring the galaxies and Kiku will be stuck on Earth for the rest of his life. A pretty boy won’t fix that. A charming waiter with a sharp tongue won’t make his world change.

But it would certainly be easier. To have someone there in the sad times, to have someone to lean on, to have someone to love. It’s a very practical idea, but to Kiku it sounds like the most romantic thing in this world. He doesn’t need to be cool. He doesn’t need to be suave.

If he could just be Kiku, and if Arthur could love that, then it would truly be happiness.

On screen, the woman has rushed out of her apartment. She dramatically runs through the rain, her hair getting wet as some pop song plays melodramatically in the background. She arrives at someone’s house and rings the doorbell. A handsome young man answers, one different from the colleague before. You, she tells him. I choose you.

I’m so sorry I waited.

Kiku turns off the TV before they kiss. In the dark of the apartment, silent and heavy, he glares at the black screen.

God.

Dramas are irritating.

* * *

 

He visits the cat cafe on a Sunday. 

He does this because he had to build himself up. He does this because he doesn’t want to give up just yet. Kiku is not known for his stubbornness but if love takes sacrifices then so be it. Even if he is rejected he wants the pride of saying that at least he tried. 

When Arthur sees him, the look he gives almost wants to make Kiku back down.  _ Almost. _

He’s starting to realize Arthur’s probably a very petty person when he’s mad. That his words will carry a bite. He realizes there are probably even more faults to Arthur he’ll be exposed to if he goes through with this. But thinking on that, and using that as an excuse, would just be him running away again. So he ignores it. Everyone has faults just as much as they have benefits. If he keeps saying that then all he’s doing is hiding. He won’t really know if he keeps playing it safe anyway.

Kiku decides the best time to confront him is after the cafe closes. He does this out of politeness and consideration. He’d hate to put Arthur on the spot and make a spectacle of their relationship. Instead, Kiku does what he usually does; he finishes some work, drinks tea, and waits patiently.

Scone waits patiently at his side too, cleaning himself, and then leaning against his arm. He almost feels like a good luck charm. Kiku gives an appreciative scratch under his chin.

Halfway through work however, noting the time, Kiku closes his laptop. It’s only then that he notices Scone was gone.

After that, no one could find him.

Kiku forgets everything else, and worries.

Kiku stood at an awkward place where he had business there but also knew the staff were worried about where Scone went. He didn’t try to look for him for the sole reason that he knew he’d be putting them in an awkward spot. No one had seen him leave the store, so it was concluded he must be hiding. By the time closing time had come, Kiku had just decided to wait outside so as to not be a bother for them and to also see if Scone would come out. Some of the other staff left, bidding Kiku good night and he would bow his head and return the saying. Arthur wasn’t among them. He was just about to drop his plan of talking to Arthur (because he didn’t need that stress added on, Kiku wasn’t thoughtless) until the door rang and Francis walked out. He was wearing a fashionable peacoat with a deep red scarf and he smiled when he saw Kiku.

“Oh, Mr. Honda. Waiting for someone?”

He probably already knew, but Kiku ignored this. “Were you able to find him?”

“He was hiding behind the bookshelf.” Francis laughed. “Silly thing. Arthur wanted to be the one to get him out, and no matter how much I insisted he just shooed me off. So I told him he can lock up.”

“I see that’s...good.”

Francis tilts his head. “You know, he could probably use some help.”

Kiku doesn’t say anything to this, because he doesn’t need to. Francis just leaves him with an easy smirk and bids him good night. Kiku waits until he’s out of view and then enters the cafe. The place feels different when it’s empty. All the cats had been put in their kennels for the evening and so it really was just the cafe itself. It was quiet, and dim. When Kiku finds Arthur he’s bent over besides the bookshelf glaring at the space between the wall and it.

“Come on....” He mutters, “Just a little more…”

Kiku hears the jingling of name tags and Arthur curses.

“No don’t go  _ further _ away!”

“Arthur?”

He jumps and when he goes to look at Kiku his hair is frazzled and his eyes are wide. Instantly, he grimaces.

“We’re closed.”

“I know that. I was just hoping I could help.”

Arthur eyes him warily, and Kiku can still feel that tension from before sitting between them. The air felt tight, like it was also holding its breath, the same feeling of aching shoulders after a long work day. Kiku remains calm.

“I don’t need it.” Arthur manages to say. The jingling plays again and he frowns at the bookcase, not in anger, but more as if he was at a loss. Kiku moves forward.

“Let me see.”

Arthur scoots over and Kiku takes place. He has to squint to really see in the darkness of the crevice but he can catch the light in Scone’s eyes and on his collar. He didn’t seem stuck; it sort of looked funny how cramped in there he was. Instead the cat looked at him boredly, and at the sight of Kiku decided to lie down. Kiku thought it was odd that of all the times he ran to him, this is the one time he didn’t.

“See?” Arthur says behind him, “There’s nothing you can do. Just let me handle it.”

Kiku doesn’t let this get to him. Instead he takes this as cue.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What?”

Kiku sits back on his heels and looks back at Arthur. He’s not sure what expression he’s making but it’s enough for Arthur to soften a bit. 

“You’ve been mad at me. Did I do something wrong?”

“I’m not mad.”

Kiku just looks at him until Arthur backs down first and has to look away.

“What does it matter to you?”

“If there’s something wrong then I want to fix it.”

“You can’t fix it.”

At that moment they hear Scone’s name tags and as soon as they turn they only see the fluff of his tail disappearing into the back. Arthur sighs heavily and gets up to go after him.

“What do you mean I can’t fix it? I won’t know unless you tell me.” Kiku shoots back as he follows. The back of the store is a more practical setting of all the things the cats would need, and kennels neatly lined up with their occupants content inside. 

“Look, do we have to talk about this now?” Arthur answers back as he looks in every nook and cranny, behind shelves and bags of cat food. 

“I know you would avoid it otherwise.”

Arthur stops, and Kiku watches his back. He takes in a big breath and turns on his heel, annoyed. 

“I don’t like how you keep using me. Alright? And I don’t like playing games.”

Kiku blinks at him. He opens his mouth and then closes it. He finally processes this.

“ _ What?” _

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but I have more pride than to be treated nicely and then  _ nothing _ . Were you just being polite? Is that it?”

Kiku’s about to answer him but Arthur doesn’t let him get a word out.

“Because if you  _ are  _ you can’t just do that sort of stuff carelessly. It’s self-satisfying, it’s selfish, it’s-”

“I’m not doing anything carelessly.” Kiku blurts out, blood pumping through his veins, his heart pumping fast. It’s a weird thing, an argument; it’s very easy to get caught up in trying to explain yourself. Arthur looks at him offended.

“No?  _ No?  _ You don’t think-”

Another jingle and the two look back to the entrance of the back room as Scone makes a beeline for a cat tree. He climbs it with primal precision and looks at the two of them with triumph, his tail swinging in excitement. Arthur makes some kind of frustrated sound at the back of his throat. Kiku watches him rummage around the storage until he brings the stepladder out and marches back into the lounge. Kiku takes this chance.

“I don’t know what idea you have of me,” He tries to explain calmly, “But if anything I did looked like I was trying to use you, then I-”

“The jacket.”

“What?”

Arthur opens the stepladder and glares at Kiku over his shoulder.

“Do you give just about anyone your jacket?”

Kiku blinks. He’s still feeling a fire but it’s lost its steam. Kiku shakes his head dumbly at a lack of a better answer.

“All those conversations too. This help you’ve been giving me. The cab ride!” Arthur lists off as he climbs the ladder, Scone watching him carefully. “You don’t think that’s using me?”

Kiku can’t follow this jump of logic of his. No matter how he tries to figure it out, none of it makes sense, like he was trying to translate without a guide. Kiku is probably getting defensive. In all those moments he thought he was just helping him. Why was he being demonized for that?

“You’re not making sense.”

Arthur is reaching for Scone who purposely avoids his hand. Arthur’s face is strained.

“If you’re just a bored businessman looking for some attention,” He grits his teeth, “I don’t want that.”

Kiku feels anger burn at his neck. A fierce tension to his body. Like a string being pulled taut. Before he can yell back, Scone leaps and instead he finds himself as the landing pad for him. Kiku makes a strained noise of surprise as he gets a face full of fur. The cat runs off, under a couch. Kiku, still burning mad, and now humiliated, can’t help himself.

“If you’re sick of me just say it!”

Arthur looks surprised at Kiku, as if he didn’t know he had it in him. Even Kiku was a little shocked at hearing his own voice raised like that. But he’s still riding an adrenaline boost of frustration so he keeps going.

“If you’re tired of me I’d rather you tell me outright. I don’t need you treating me like this and hoping I get the message. It’s irresponsible. You’re being immature.”

And then Arthur begins to tear up. 

That’s not fair, Kiku thinks. You’re not allowed to play the victim. He keeps his emotions in check, but deep in his heart Kiku can’t help but think he just wants to embrace him. 

Arthur gets down from the stepladder, still angry but with tears at the corner of his eyes.

“You think I’m sick of you?” Arthur echoes. “If I’m being immature then you’re being dense!”

“Then what is it? What are you trying to tell me?”

“If you expect me to answer that then you don’t get it at all.”

“Then what am I  _ supposed  _ to do?”

“ _ You’re  _ supposed to say it!”

Kiku stops, being given a task he didn’t even know he was supposed to do. One he didn’t even understand. All Arthur was doing was giving him the half-answers he still didn’t understand. If it wasn’t that he was sick of his presence, if it wasn’t that he was just being moody, then what was it? In the background, Scone runs into the employee lounge but both have long forgotten their chase at this point. Kiku tries to get the answer any way he can.

“Why does it have to be me? Why can’t it be you?”

“Because then I won’t really know!” Arthur yells and then stops himself. He breathes heavily, trying to steady himself from the whirlwind before. The tears finally fall. He looks tired and worn out. He stares at the ground in a way that feels like he wasn’t really looking at anything at all.

“Because...because I won’t really know if you want it too.” He says, voice small, “Because I don’t know if I’ll just be assuming things for my sake. Or that you’re just going along with it. I want you to really,  _ really _ want this.”

His voice sounds raw and struggling. It’s so emotional it makes Kiku’s heart ache. This is serious for him, he realizes. He needs to listen. Arthur is sharing parts of himself with Kiku and in the chaos of this moment, Kiku wants to hold this close most of all.

“Are you using me?” Arthur asks, sniffling, trying to wipe away tears, “Or am I that scary to you? I don’t want to think you can’t be honest with me. I really like being with you. If all that time for you was just a game or something you put up with...”

The Earth is more than just gas, liquids, and solids.

The Earth may just have just as much as the galaxies.

You won’t find anything comparable to the human psyche in the vast reaches of space. Of course, the boundaries outside of our bodies are infinite, but the boundaries of human connection is more complicated. The galaxy shows how small we are, but it’s our relationships that show how big we can be. Kiku has been blind this whole time. He doesn’t need this anymore. Some kind of frank nihilism that made him unaware of the world around him, as if that meant he was mature. In this way too, he was caving in. But he needs to stop running.

The vastness of space doesn’t even compare to Arthur.

Kiku feels something nudge against his leg. They both look down, and Arthur lets out a sharp breath when he sees. Kiku doesn’t say anything. He simply bends down to Scone and takes the handkerchief from his mouth.

It is a deep blue decorated with golden gleaming chrysanthemums.

Kiku understands.

When he stands back up and smiles at Arthur, he feels calm. He feels like everything has fallen into place.

“From your bag?” He guesses. Arthur, still crying, just nods.

Kiku examines it for a moment, runs his thumb over it. In the quiet of the cafe, he silently folds it.

“I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long.” He tells him gently, “I was worried I would have chased you away. I was worried I wasn’t worthy of you. I was worried about a lot of silly things.”

Kiku blinks, still looking down at the gift. Arthur sniffles, and Kiku can’t bring himself to look at him only because he’s not sure he could handle it right now.

“...I was being a total prat.”

“You were.” Kiku chuckles. “But I still can’t help but love you.”

And it’s there. It slips in like nothing, as if it had been there the whole time, or it fit in that well. This isn’t enough for Kiku. It just feels so liberating to finally say it.

“Even if you have a temper, or you’re a crybaby, or you can’t handle yourself...even if you’re stubborn or sarcastic or a brat...I would still love you. I still love you.” Kiku looks up at him, free and smiling and beautiful, “I love you.”

Arthur looks so relieved. He’s still crying, and his face is red, but he looks so free. Accepted and at peace. He brings a hand to his mouth, shoulders shaking.

“Would you just kiss me already?” He whispers, pleading, “If you keep me waiting any longer I feel like I’ll die.”

So he does.

It’s groundbreaking only because of the emotions behind it. Technically, it’s nothing special, and it’s rather average. But for Kiku it’s more of a seal, a promise, a hope for more. He slips the handkerchief into his pocket and holds Arthur’s face with both hands. In the middle of it, Arthur breaks it, whispering ‘I love you’ onto his lips, but Kiku just brings him down again. It carries on like this, perfect and needed, until things get too heated and Kiku deepens it and Arthur slightly nudges him away.

“Wait, wait.” He gasps, trying to catch his breath, “Not yet.”

“What’s wrong?”

Arthur is flushed, eyes glassy, and he gulps. “Not...Not here.”

Their brought back with the slow and angry drawl of a meow. Looking to its source they see Scone waiting by the kennels, lying on his side, waiting impatiently. There is a pause, then laughter.

“Little devil just acts like he owns the place.” Arthur comments, and Kiku nods. He takes Arthur’s hand, getting his attention back, and smiles wolfishly.

“My place is near here.” He offers. It’s satisfying the deep shade of red Arthur turns.

“How did you think you weren’t cool enough when you say things like that?” He mutters, indignant and Kiku laughs again. Arthur gets things squared away: he puts Scone in for the night, he locks up the cafe, and when they finally leave he holds Kiku’s hand without pause. There is a comfortable silence between them, and they follow the line of the streetlights, guiding them home. Kiku looks up at the sky, a blanket of stars and a giant glowing moon. It’s so strange to him to see the world is the same, while it feels like something has changed for him. But it’s promising. It’s something.

It’s incredibly lovely.

Kiku moves forward.

* * *

 

Yao’s status as a morning person confuses many people. But for Yao it’s important for a person to be efficient and the best way to do that is to start the day off right. He’s pretty proud of himself today; he’d gotten in early enough to get the best selection from the fishmongers and he’s already looking forward to what to do with his spoils of war. But being a morning person has its drawbacks and walking with bags heavy in his arms he feels a rumble in his stomach. He supposes he could stop by a cafe to finally get some breakfast in him, but there are the ingredients to consider.

Yao does some calculations and his best solution is to stop by Kiku’s apartment. It’s perfect! Maybe he can give Kiku the full course breakfast he deserves too. God knows he doesn’t look after himself as Yao thinks he should. Yao doesn’t consider his phone; he never does.

When Yao gets there here climbs the stairs and looks for the key in his pocket. At the beginning, Kiku had only given it to him in case of emergency. Clearly, this counts as emergency. Opening the door, he’s about to call out before he catches the end of laughter.

That’s not Kiku’s laughter.

“Kiku! Your hands are freezing!” The new voice exclaimed in delight.

“Why do you think I’m trying to warm them up?”

Yao has never wanted to hear Kiku’s voice sound that way. Or say things like that. He looks down and sees a new pair of shoes alongside Kiku’s. Yao isn’t stupid; he gets the message. There’s more laughter and flirtations and questions about breakfast but by then Yao has gently closed the door and is walking away.

Well. He figured it would have to happen one day.

Before he descends the stairs he stops. He walks back, and puts the key in the mailbox. It drops with a final clink and Yao heads home.

He should have a talk with his siblings soon too. Kiku has done enough for them.

* * *

 

Arthur stands in his kitchen, brewing tea. He doesn’t live in an especially spacious place, but it’s good enough for a college student living abroad. It’s midday and the sound of chirping birds is coming from a tree outside his window. On a kitchen chair hangs a jacket that’s somewhere between borrowed and mostly staying kept. His mind is preoccupied with thoughts of a test he had just taken that day and wondering if the brand of snacks he’d picked up earlier where any good. He had picked them out because he was feeling nostalgic for biscuits, but he wonders if they taste any authentic. Then again, maybe his guest won’t even notice the difference.

When he pours the hot water the steam rises to his face and the fragrance of the tea fills him. He’s not an incredibly handsome person. He’s rough around the edges, his eyebrows are too thick, and he has small scars on his hands. But to someone, he means something. He places the mismatched mugs onto a tea tray and carefully carries it, snacks and all, to the living room. 

Briefly, seeing the two of them there, he wonders if this is what dreams are made of.

Scone is circling Kiku, meowing, begging for attention. Kiku smiles to himself as he spoils him with pets and scratches.

“I see he’s still just as clingy.” Arthur deadpans and Kiku looks up at him. He chuckles. It’s a holiday, and Kiku looks much more relaxed in his casual clothes.

“He’s gotten used to your apartment.” Kiku points out as Arthur puts down the tea tray. He smirks and picks up Scone, bringing him to his face.

“Of course! He has no choice do you, you little devil?” He mocks, placing a playful kiss on the cat’s head. Scone’s face scrunches up in disgust, his ears rearing back. He squirms until Arthur puts him back down, and the cat retreats to the windowsill to sulk. The couple look on amused.

Arthur had been the one to say he’d adopt him. Kiku had agreed to pay the expenses. This was just a temporary set-up for them.

After catching up, Kiku taps his fingers against the side of his mug, holding it between his hands, staring into the warm drink as if he could read his future. He clears his throat.

“I talked to my boss yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“I...I just thought it was time.”

“How did it go?”

Kiku looks up, shy, but smiling. “Very well.”

Arthur congratulates him. He’s proud. Kiku feels a swelling his chest that could only come from receiving such praise. It was a pure feeling so he doesn’t judge it. Suddenly, he reaches over and holds Arthur’s hands in his own, his grip tender and warm. His head is bowed and the image makes Arthur think of the word ‘modest’.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for awhile now,” Kiku gulps, “I...I want to work harder. Achieve more. I want to become someone who can proudly say he did his best.”

Arthur listens patiently.

“I would like to afford a nicer apartment one day. To make enough so we can all live comfortably. It might take me awhile, but I hope you can be patient with me until then. To be able to live with you is a dream of mine I’d like to make true.”

Kiku is blushing like crazy, embarrassed at his own honesty and apprehensive to Arthur’s answer. His boyfriend studies him for a moment before he holds his hand in return and smiles.

“Ok.” He agrees, “I’ll cheer for you to do your best,  _ papa _ .”

Kiku chokes, looking up at Arthur in surprise, grasping at words. Arthur bursts out into laughter.

“It’s just a joke! You’re getting all serious again. Really, you’re like an old man sometimes.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “The way you talk is like you’re proposing to me.”

The idea makes Kiku’s heart flutter, but he doesn’t consider it yet. Not yet.

Maybe, someday. (But it’s too soon for now.)

“Look,” Arthur leans forward, “It makes me happy. But you know you don’t have to do this alone. I’ll do my best, too.”

He looks away, “Besides if you get all honest like that I feel like my heart will explode.” He adds on, somewhat pouty but more so shy. It warms Kiku in a way that feels like he’s understood, accepted, seen and loved. He leans forward and taking Arthur by surprise, he kisses him with such affection it’s like the world falls away.

Kiku doesn’t think of space right now. He doesn’t think of a fantasy where Arthur throws himself into his arms and begs to get married. He doesn’t think of Saturday, or beer, or late nights spent staring at a ceiling trying to figure it all out.

Kiku just needed to be here, right here.

Right where he belonged.


End file.
